


Tomb Lilies

by thesynapticsnap



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, BlackIce, Blow Jobs, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:23:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesynapticsnap/pseuds/thesynapticsnap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate to save the life of his sister, Jack promises himself as blood slave to a vampire named Pitch Black in exchange for her health. Unbeknownst to Jack, Pitch is an ancient, immensely powerful vampire that has become a threat to his brethren. When Manny, a vampire lord fearful Pitch's uncontrolled power will permanently unravel their society, hires a team of vampire hunters to kill Pitch, Jack has the chance to escape at last...but does he truly want to leave Pitch? Vampire AU, colonial era.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Conceptualization by moiraabsinthe and thesynapticsnap.

Jack felt there was nothing he could do but pray. Each day that passed, the sickness worsened in his mother and sister, and it was his duty alone to care for them as well as tend to the small herd of sheep that provided them food and coin. It was winter now. In the summertime, his father had excused the red spread across his chest like a fleshy necklace as merely the kiss of the season, the fault of labor and sweltering afternoons. By autumn, the red had taken hold of his throat and choked from him his senses, until there was nothing left within him but the trembling coughs and delirious murmurs that kept them all awake well into the night. It was only a matter of time before the sickness spread to Mother too, through the chaste kisses she placed against Father’s sweaty brow when she believed the children were not watching. When she began to cough shakily over dinners, Jack feared it would next strike in little Emma, as it did. The day the village men came to bury Father, struggling all day to pierce the frosted dirt for a grave, Jack saw her wipe her nose with the back of her hand and sniffle. When her wide brown eyes met his own he knew she was victim too.

But not he. Though he labored over his mother and Emma every waking hour he was not tending to the sheep or at market, Death would not touch him. At some point each evening, he selfishly wished he would catch the fever and die so he would not have to see their suffering any longer, but these feelings were always followed with the sting of shame. It was not his time to die until it was willed by the heavens, not his own desires. The fate of his mother and sister were not in his hands either, though often when he cleaned the sickness from his mother’s bedclothes or had to hold Emma while she coughed blood into a rag, this was difficult to accept.

He bargained with a silent God until the harshest months covered their tiny home in ice. It was the darkest moment of the year upon the coldest night when he prayed for the last time. There was silence in his mind for the days that followed, until he dreamed. Jack told his dreams he would do anything to save his mother and sister from the terrible fever that had consumed them, even if that meant gifting his soul to the devil. God remained silent to the faint pleading of his subconscious. But dreams – those spoke.

It was some time after the dream, when Jack had all but forgotten it and settled back into his bleak routine, that anything came to fruition. A lamb had wandered from the herd on a particular night. Jack had counted the herd thrice over, all huddled close in the cold, and come up short a head each time. As the Overland family could not afford to be without even one of its sheep, it was the boy’s duty to search for it. Jack journeyed through the forest in pursuit of its tiny hoofmarks, the cold wetness of snow sinking through his moccasins. The remaining sheep stayed behind, dutifully grazing upon the little grass that remained beneath the layer of frost across the hills. 

The woods through which Jack ventured housed a great many terrors, from the dark and hungry mother bear to wild dogs that roamed the forest in hope of a child wandered too far from the village. These were the things Jack listened for as he trod through the snow, but the mother bear was tucked away in her den for the winter and the dogs had wandered elsewhere. Even if Jack had listened for the footfall of man, perhaps a thief stolen into the forest who was too foolish to know how poor the boy was, he would not have heard the thing that followed him.

Jack eventually came upon snow patched with blood that told him the fate of his little lamb. Still, there was no trace of wool nor bone, which meant the lamb could have been injured and hobbled off to seek refuge. Even if predators had gotten ahold of it, if he could salvage the tiniest piece of meat, it would be worth the trip across the hills and through the woods. He ventured onward, following droplets of blood in the snow that became sparser and sparser, until they abruptly ended. There was still no trace of the lamb.

But before him was something most unexpected. Upon looking up to study the ground that lay ahead, Jack was met with the sight of a glorious, albeit gloomy, mansion. Tall, dark iron gates surrounded the area, and beyond the skeletal fence the great house was illuminated under a full moon. Jack had never seen such a thing before, nor even been aware someone lived out here so far from town. In awe, he neared the gates and peaked through to get a better, unobstructed view. From the looks of things, the house was all but abandoned. No candle’s flame waved in the windowpane. All was silent that surrounded him, not even the hoot of nightbirds or cry of foxes to break the quiet.

“What are you doing here?”

Jack flattened himself against the iron gate in a panic, whipping around to see a tall man wearing robes as dark as the night sky standing a breath away from him. He had not sensed him at all!

“S-sorry,” Jack stammered. “I…I was looking for my lamb. It wandered out here – I was…”

The tall figure silenced him with a raised hand.

“Lamb, yes,” he said. “A lamb wandered this way. I must apologize, I saw no brand on him and had him gutted.”

Jack’s heart fell, but he did not know how he could ask the man to return the carcass. Not when such a finely dressed and well-spoken man was so above him.

“Was he your’s, then?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then I shall pay you,” said the man, gesturing for him to move. When Jack moved away from the gate the man opened it and beckoned for Jack to follow.

“Sir, you don’t—“

“Nonsense,” he replied. “I am not blind, boy. I can see the dread upon your face. I will pay you for the lamb and then some to put a bit of fat on your ribs.”

The man gave him much more than he would have asked of him. He paid him in gold, a commodity Jack had rarely seen traded in the market. The bag alone could have been traded for a herd of healthy adult sheep. Jack looked up and made to tell him it was too much, to take it back, but the man anticipated his refusal and raised his hand once more to silence him.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Jack stammered. “Is there…anything I can do for you? Anything to repay you?”  
The man tucked his hands behind his back. He smiled softly and seemed to contemplate Jack’s offer, surely knowing that what he’d handed the boy was invaluable to one living in such poverty. 

“I am in need of a servant,” the stranger at last answered. “If you were to tend to the house in the evenings, I would see to it you were compensated. The evenings only. I am a busy man during the daylight hours.”

Jack had never seen nor heard of this stranger, but he was so enraptured by his poise and elegance, the wonder that radiated from his being and set him aglow even in the dark night, that he could not turn down such an offer. He reached out to grasp the other’s hand, and was met with a bony, but strong grasp, in return. He was as thin as Jack, his skin as cold. His smile remained with the boy until he returned the next night to fulfill his duties.

Emma and his mother had been overjoyed to the point of tears when Jack returned to them that night, dumping the bag of gold onto the bedclothes for them to see. Of course he could return to the stranger, if such was his pay. The sheep, which he’d forgotten to herd back to the home, were an afterthought upon the hill. Their wool and meager fat could not promise the same heavy bags of promises.

When Jack returned to the mansion the next night, he rapped a few times against the door with the whites of his knuckles before realizing there was a brass knocker that sent echoing knocks throughout the home. It only took a few minutes for the man, whom he’d come to know was Pitch Black, to answer.

This time, Jack could make out the glow of candlelight behind Pitch, who was smiling in welcome. In the light, even as dim as it was, Jack could trace new features about the man. His skin was odd – no so much pale like snow, but ashen as if smoke had touched upon ice and left a faint residue. His eyes were a faint brown, almost honey their appearance so light.

“Jack,” said Pitch, seemingly amused at the presence of the other, as if he had not expected him to return. “I am glad to see you. Tell me, have you eaten tonight?”

“Well, I had bread and a bit of lamb stock when I was watching the sheep earlier,” Jack said, neglecting to mentioned ‘earlier’ had been yesterday afternoon. Soon he was being swept into the home.

“How fortunate I happen to have some of my own meal remaining,” Pitch said warmly as he led Jack through the dimly lit home, not giving the other much time to twist and turn to survey his surroundings. He took Jack directly to a large dining room, where a table was set for one. At the head of the table appeared to be an untouched plate of mouthwatering portions. Boiled potatoes, a chuck of meat dripping its gravy across the plate below, and a cooked egg sat upon it, still steaming with warmth. A cup of dark amber drink, presumably a beer, sat aside it. Jack looked uncertainly to Pitch, in disbelief he should be offered such an extravagant meal. He rarely ate once a day, and his meals were never so large.

“Go ahead,” Pitch said, gesturing for Jack to seat himself at the head of the table before the plate. He watched him with the same small smile as the boy shifted awkwardly into the cushioned chair and fumbled with the silverware.

“Don’t concern yourself with manners,” Pitch said as he sat beside of him, taking note of Jack’s hesitancy to eat in front of him. “I’ve been in your place, Jack. I know what it means to be a poor boy in a rich man’s home. Eat.”

Jack set aside the silverware and tore at the meat with his fingers as he was used to doing on the rare occasion he enjoyed lamb or chicken. The meat practically melted against his tongue, and it was all he could do to stop himself from sighing in pleasure. How had he come to be so lucky, all from a chance encounter with this stranger?

“You were,” Jack began, swallowing a chunk of the meat before continuing. “You used to be poor?”

“Indeed,” Pitch replied, folding his fingers and resting his chin atop them. “A very poor boy with little chance for much else aside from begging in the streets. But a man gave me a chance, Jack. A chance I hope to give you.”

Jack thought of the implications of Pitch’s words. It was unheard of for a boy like himself to ever become someone as grand as Pitch, laughable even.

“Excuse me, sir, but I have to ask…just exactly how can that be possible?”

“I’m offering you a place in my home permanently,” Pitch answered. “As more than a mere servant.”

Pitch stood and circled around the table, gesturing to the fine arrangements of flowers and silks that adorned the dining room.

“I could offer you all of this… a fine home, fine food—“ he stopped to motion to Jack’s plate. “A warm bed each night in a room all your own. A chance to travel with me across the land, perhaps even back to a home you never knew, Jack. Would you like to visit England?”

Pitch folded his hands behind his back and smiled down at the boy, expecting nothing more than an enthusiastic ‘yes’. But his smile faded when he saw the boy hesitate.

“What? Do you not want that, Jack?”

“I do,” Jack replied quietly. “But…but I have to stay and take care of my sister and mother now that my father’s passed away. I’m sorry. It wouldn’t be right to leave them.”

Pitch tried not to let the sting he felt at being rejected show in his countenance. He simply nodded, and turned away for a few moments to regain himself.

“Very well, then,” he said stiffly. “I shall let you on as manservant, as I promised, for a reasonable wage I hope will suit your family’s needs.”

Jack came to learn that he was Pitch’s only servant in the vast home. He thought this strange, but did not voice his opinion lest he offend Pitch further. He already knew he had displeased the man in turning down his offer to keep him on as a ward, and he was in no position to upset him to the point he would refute his proposal that Jack serve as a housekeeper. Pitch seemed to know instinctively more was expected of him as a wealthy man, however, for he explained the lack of house staff without prompting.

“When one is poor for so very long, he forgets what is expected of him as a man of wealth,” said Pitch as Jack trailed him up a grand staircase. “Even you think it unbecoming that I should cook my own meals and turn down my own duvet.”

“Not unbecoming, sir,” Jack stammered. “Just…uncommon.”

“Uncommon,” chuckled Pitch. “For a boy without formal studies, you are skilled in obsequious language.”

Jack wasn’t sure what Pitch meant by that, but he had the feeling it was not entirely a compliment. He followed the other silently to what could only be the other’s master bedroom. Within, the room was dark but for the eerie glow of a few red-wax candles sitting upon the nightstand next to a bed larger than Jack had ever seen. The bed alone could have easily been the size of his entire home.The duvet appeared to be the same deep red as the wax of the candles Pitch burned aside the bed, and seemingly innumerable silken pillows stuffed with goose down were neatly tucked against the headboard.

“I am a fairly tidy man, you’ll find,” Pitch said as he surveyed the room. “There is not much to be attended to aside from the duties I am sure you’ve performed at home. Sweeping, airing, washing of sheets and dishes, trimming weeds in my flower garden. I assume you can neither read nor write?”

Jack shook his head.

“Pity. Perhaps I will still take it upon myself to get you a tutor, even though you turned down my offer of wardship.”

Jack cringed, Pitch’s bitter tone confirming he’d indeed offended the other.

“It would be an asset to have a servant who can read and write,” Pitch continued. “I find letter writing so very tedious. Would you care to learn, then?”

“I…I suppose I could,” Jack stammered. He’d never thought he’d need to learn his letters, being only a shephard’s son. The idea of learning intrigued him. So often he’d seen the wealthy reading books in the marketplace, enthralled by what lay between the pages. He’d never found much use for books outside of those with pictures. Sometimes he’d tried to make sense of the many scribbles that told the actual story, but it was a fruitless endeavor.

“Very well, I shall find an instructor for you soon enough.”

Pitch showed him around the remainder of the home, each of its many dozens of rooms, and covered a short list of things he was to do upon his first night there. The man was gentle with him, not expecting him to cover the entire home within the evening. Pitch recognized, even in his ignorance about the way a wealthy man should work, that mansions kept many servants for a reason. He simply asked that Jack cover as much as possible in the next few hours, and that he would seek him out once his shift had ended.

Jack was just beginning to grow tired when Pitch came to him. He was in the midst of dusting a small room Pitch told him was often where he drank his evening tea and read when time permitted. The small room held a number of bookcases full end-to-end with tomes that looked older than any Jack had ever seen the people carrying in the streets. Likewise, any decorations in the room seemed just as ancient and out of place, as if Pitch had plucked them from another time and world altogether.

“You’ve done well,” Pitch told him, motioning for him to place down his cleaning supplies. “Go home now and rest before you need to tend to your sheep. I expect to see you after sunset tomorrow evening.”

“Are you certain you don’t want me to come earlier?” Jack asked. “It’s very late, I don’t mean to keep you up.”

“I told you, I am most busy during the day,” Pitch said, then, softening his tone, “I am fine with this time, I assure you. It allows you the day with your duties and family.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

Jack told him goodbye and made his way through the woods and back toward home. The moon was still near full that evening and lit his journey, the woods seemingly brighter than the interior of Pitch’s mansion. It waned each night he returned to Pitch, and it was upon the night of a new moon, when the light was gone entirely, that he came to the home with terrible news.

Pitch was waiting for him outside of the gates, a curious expression upon his face as if he was expecting an usual event upon that night. Jack tried not to make mention of the tragedy to Pitch, but one look into the man’s eyes and he was crying like a child. Pitch, most unexpectedly, swept him into an embrace that Jack had not shared with another since his mother swaddled him in her arms in his youth. Even Pitch’s cloak that he buried his face against reminded him of the familiar, warm scent of his mother when she’d once hugged him.

“There now,” Pitch said softly. “What’s happened?”

“My sister,” Jack said when he was finally able to compose himself. “She’s gotten worse, and…I think she’s going to die. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Jack,” Pitch soothed, brushing a strand of the boy’s auburn hair from his face. “Calm yourself, dear boy. Come within and drink with me, and I’ll tell you of a way we can help your sister.”

Jack followed Pitch to the little room where the books were kept and took the hot tea he was offered, but did not drink. Normally Pitch would scold him for neglecting to eat or drink, but the other seemed to understand he could not stomach it in that moment.

“Jack, you’ve only been with me a short time, but I’m sure you’ve noticed my more…unusual hours. And perhaps some of my ancient relics have caught your attention?”

Jack only stared blankly into his cup of tea, remembering to nod softly only after a long moment of silence.

“I am, my dearest boy, something out of time, as are the relics I keep. A man, but not entirely. A being that can live forever, but only under circumstances Hell has set for one such as me. I am a vampire.”

Jack was too anguished to look up with more than mild surprise, but his breath hitched in his throat when he saw the other bare his teeth. The tales spoke only of the creatures having two sharp teeth to distinguish them from humans, but Pitch bared six fangs of varying lengths, which he quickly closed his lips over once he was sure Jack had gotten a look.

“You’ve likely heard terrible things about my kind, and most would be true,” Pitch admitted. “But I also have a wonderful gift. The power to heal. I can rid your sweet sister of her illness.”

“Would you?” Jack asked meekly, knowing this was terribly wrong, that he might as well have been parlaying with the devil himself.

“Of course I will,” Pitch said. “But in return, I ask that you remain with me. As a ward, a companion… and someone that will willingly yield his throat to me each night when I hunger.”  
________________________________________

Jack walked aside Pitch under the moonless sky, the spill of stars lighting their path through the dark woods made skeletal by winter. He tried his best not to shiver, only his thin, cowhide cloak wrapped about his shoulders to keep out the chill, but Pitch took note of his discomfort despite his best efforts. Frowning, the older man wrapped an arm around Jack’s bony shoulder and pulled him close to him, draping his own velvet cloak around him. Pitch’s cloak about his shoulders forced him to walk nearly hip to hip with the man, and being so close to him made him ill. A vampire. A vampire to whom he had sold his life.

“So quiet,” Pitch murmured. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” Jack said hastily. As much as he dreaded the fate that was in store for him as a vampire’s nightly source of blood, he would have done far more for the sake of assuring Emma’s health. “As long as you heal my sister, I’m your’s.”

“Fair enough,” Pitch chuckled. “Your dear sister will be rid of whatever nasty disease you humans have managed to pick up this time. Then you are to return home with me. Don’t sulk so, boy! I’ll see to it you do not lack for luxuries. You’ll have the finest clothing, the most scrumptious of meals, and a room all your own!”

Pitch seemed to believe this was all it would take to assuage Jack’s dread, but the boy did not rouse from his sulking.

“What’s wrong? Why do you still hang your head?”

“You said once that a man gave you a chance,” Jack said. “You wanted to give me the same chance. Are you…?”

Pitch understood at once the source of Jack’s fear. The boy thought himself fated to become a vampire, and however much the idea of having him as an eternal companion thrilled Pitch, it had not crossed his mind the boy would want such. Pitch had gifted only one other eternal life in all the centuries he himself had been a vampire, and she hated him for ever after. Beyond that single instance, he had taken countless victims, and a handful of companions like Jack that served as blood slaves until they became too old and feeble to be of use to him anymore.

Pitch could barely conceal his delight at being posed such a question.

“Well,” he said, licking his lips at the mere thought of immortalizing the boy, forever young and lithe, and forever his. “It would mean I would need to seek a new mortal to serve as blood slave, but if you wanted, Jack, I could grant you such a gift.”

The boy’s eyes widened.

“No,” he pleaded. “Please, no. I’ll serve as your blood slave. Just don’t hurt anyone else.”

Pitch felt all of his hopes extinguished in that moment. Even the oldest and most weary of vampires wishes for companionship, and for a moment, it seemed to be within Pitch’s grasp. He’d not felt such strong feelings for another in so long, perhaps because the boy did remind him so much of himself. They would have been wonderful together, as mentor and student, father and son, and perhaps in time...

“Very well,” Pitch said through tight lips, and the velvet cloak around Jack’s shoulders was tugged away, leaving him exposed once more.

Pitch felt an inkling of remorse for his coldness toward the boy once they reached his home, a small shack on the edge of a frozen pond. Several skinny sheep were kept in a pin near the back of the home, and a patch of dirt that was likely a garden during warmer months sat frosted over near the entrance. Jack walked ahead of him to the door and entered without knocking, leaving the entrance ajar for Pitch to follow.

Within, there was a single room. One wall was where the family fireplace sat, old ashes moldering beneath a black cooking pot. Near the fireplace there were several crates, presumably full of preserved food, and otherwise much of the room was empty save for the bed. Here Jack’s mother sat up, a single candle burning beside of her that illuminated her face, her hands cradling a fevered child against her breast. Her pupils blackened when she saw Pitch. Surely the candles of the home showed him for what he was – the unnatural grey hue of his flesh, the yellow of his eyes. All gifts of vampirism. He could not remember what he’d looked like as a man, but it was not this ashen, dark creature.

“Mother,” Jack said softly, approaching her and sitting on the bed. Pitch pretended to observe something else within the home, as Jack’s lowered voice was obviously intended to escape his ears. It did not actually prevent him from hearing the conversation (another advantage of his beloved curse), but he would give the boy this once last false comfort.

“Mother,” Jack whispered again. “This is the man…he promised he’d heal Emma. But…I’m going to have to leave you after this. Forever.”

Jack’s mother made a strangled whine, but she was quickly quieted by the boy.

“Listen to me. Listen. I don’t want this either, but it’s the only way. Just trust me. Please.”

There was another moment of soft whining, before Pitch caught the faint sound of Jack’s lips pressing to his mother’s cheek, and then the sister’s fevered forehead. He feigned surprise when Jack approached him from behind, turning slowly as if he had not anticipated his every step.

“Okay,” Jack sighed. “I think…I think we’re ready.”

Pitch took pity on the frightened young boy, even though he had rejected him numerous times, and ran a hand through his auburn hair.

“Do not worry,” he assured him.

Approaching the bed, the mother still cowered and clung to her child despite Jack’s attempt at comforting her. Pitch did not speak to her, instead placing his hand directly on the child’s forehead and beginning his work. Drawing the illness from a mortal was a quick task, but it would exhaust him for days afterward. Luckily Jack would be there to help him recover, otherwise a few days could have easily turned into a week or more, and a week in which he was too tired to feed would open him up to attacks. Not that he’d encountered any trouble for a good while, but as one so powerful, there was always the omnipresent fear an ancient enemy may strike…

He felt the fever burn against his cold palm, and slowly the burn crept up his arm and dispelled throughout his body. His ancient blood attacked the sickness that had threatened to kill the young mortal, dissolving it as easily as water would sugar. Within only a few moments the girl was blinking open her eyes, her mind cleared of the delirium. Her mother stared at Pitch, mouth agape. He touched her cheek softly and she did not tear away, so he absorbed her sickness as well. It was not nearly as drastic as the child’s, but he knew immediately he should not have attempted to cure two mortals within a single night. He parted from the woman and was barely able to stay afoot as he made his way toward the door. 

“Say your goodbyes and join me outside,” he rasped to Jack. He wearily exited the home and collapsed into a heap upon the ground right outside. 

He could no longer hear the mortals speaking, so much of his energy focused on gathering himself to his feet and staying there. When Jack loyally joined him outside of the home he was standing upright once more, but knew he could feasibly make it home on so little strength.

“Come here,” he ordered Jack, and the boy obeyed. “I’d meant to reserve your first time for more comfortable settings, but…I am afraid I am too weak to return home without drinking of you.”

Fear flashed across Jack’s eyes, but it was dampened from their prior discussions.

“Thank you for what you did,” he said, before undoing his cloak and folding it over his arm. “I’m assuming you ah, want the neck?”

The sight of the pale flesh exposed, by a willing victim no less, made him narrow his eyes and wrap an arm around Jack’s waist.

“Yes,” he said huskily, leaning down to graze his teeth across Jack’s neck. “Try to stay still. This will hurt.”

He listened to the pounding of the boy’s heartbeat against his throat, smelled the cold sweat against his skin that emanated his terror. The chill that had previously spread across his skin was all but gone when Pitch sank his teeth against the flesh, boiled to a heated plane in Jack’s horrified state. He let his foremost fangs, the longest of his set of six, sink in just enough that they brushed a thrumming artery beneath his victim’s flesh. Jack whimpered and clawed at him instinctually.

“It hurts,” he sobbed again and again as the other drank of him. 

His blood was smooth and warm across Pitch’s tongue, and it took a great deal of willpower to tear away from the other. As soon as Jack felt the fangs retract he pressed hard against the wound on his neck, groaning at the feel of blood still leaking wetly across his skin. Pitch only admired the frightened boy in his state of shock. Every part of him belonged to him. Every droplet of blood dripping into the snow below, every inch of pale, unmarked flesh – all of it was his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Pitch return home to settle into their new life. Meanwhile, Manny (an old rival of Pitch's) attracts the greatest of vampire hunters to his palace in order to defeat his troublesome foe at last. A motley crew of hunters make it past his traps, each with a different end goal in mind. Manny hopes he can unite them to face Pitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took some liberties with the characterization of the four Guardians and Manny to fit with the theme of the AU. Also, North and Tooth are based primarily on the GoC versions.
> 
> Please feel free to leave any suggestions for improvement.

Even after feeding, dragging himself home, along with the bleeding human, was a slow and frustrating task. Normally, Pitch would have easily navigated the forest with his superior eyesight and hearing, but his exhaustion deeply hindered his abilities. The overwhelming fatigue he felt was testament to just how long it had been since he’d used his healing abilities. Healing a human of a sickness was something he’d rarely done in his millennia as a vampire. His blood slaves were normally the only ones whom he healed. The scar tissue that gathered around their veins and arteries where he bit only served to hinder his feeding; it wasn’t so much he cared to make them feel better.

He would have healed the boy if he’d have felt up to it, but tonight Jack would suffer the ache of the bite where his fangs had pierced his neck. In any case, it pleased him to see the other in a bit of pain, clutching his neck with a hand covered in sticky blood. Pitch would not easily forgive the fact Jack had denied him on not one, but several occasions. Jack turning down his offer of the vampiric Gift had deeply upset Pitch.

When he’d come across this boy, he’d thought perhaps his loneliness was at an end. In the beginning, when he’d first encountered Jack tending to his scraggly herd of sheep, his hunger had almost gotten the best of him. He was hunting for game that night, having had little success penetrating the human village unnoticed, when he spotted him upon a hill. A vampire can feed off the blood of a deer or fox as easily as he can feed from a human, but only a human inspires a primal bloodlust like Pitch felt upon that night. Many of the older vampires believe that the reaction is an urge to return to what they once were, for only humans can contract the illness and become vampires. However futile it is in reality, the bloodlust twists their minds to believe than in attacking a human, tasting their life’s blood, they can become mortal once more to feel and cry and hate and love as humans do.

But Pitch did not attack Jack, sitting upon the hill so vulnerable. Instead, he watched the boy sleepily tend to his sheep, something about the other’s bony physique and messy brunette hair drawing him in. A minute passed, and then an hour. Pitch realized he was watching a boy that reminded him of another time and another place, where his own shadowy body took the place of the young shepherd. His memories were always shrouded so he could not pinpoint what he used to look like, or from where he’d came, but he knew that indeed there had been a time he was but a starving boy upon cobbled streets in place of Jack’s frosty hills. Until the Other came, the man that had fed him and fucked him and loved him or hated him so deeply he’d given him the gift of vampirism.

Pitch realized he wanted that skinny boy upon the hill, and devised a way to lure him to his home. The mansion in which he resided was well hidden with the help of ward magic, so none could find it without knowing what they sought. The boy would not come willingly, he knew. And so Pitch devised to take one of the lambs from the herd when the other was not watching carefully enough to see his shadowy figure slip among the sheep. He judged that the boy could not afford to lose a single one of his herd, given his thin body and the rags he wore. Thankfully he was correct, and Jack had come to him.

Even so, he knew the boy was not yet his in spirit, and that angered him. He wanted Jack to be as he was to his master, completely enthralled with every word and touch he offered. Jack shied from him when he tried to comfort him following the admittedly sudden feeding, and since then, he’d allowed him to suffer in silence while they trekked home.

“I’ve not yet prepared a bedroom suite for you,” Pitch said when they entered the dark mansion, motioning for Jack to follow him up the staircase. “I did not anticipate ever having you here after you refused my initial offer. However, there are a number of rooms with beds from which you may choose. We will arrange a proper sleeping area beginning tomorrow at twilight, and I shall see to it you have a desk and bookshelf as well.”

Jack muttered a weak ‘thank you’, shuffling after Pitch as the other showed him to his own sleeping quarters. Jack had cleaned within the bedroom before, but Pitch had previously forbidden him to enter the area where he slept a majority of the time. He unlocked the little door that led to a much less extravagant room, empty save for a large coffin in the middle of the floor, visible in thanks to the few candles burning in the next room.

It was unlike the pine box in which Jack’s father and other poor men and women had been buried, the only coffins Jack had ever seen. This one was a fine, lacquered dark wood, its interior cushioned with deep red velvet.

“I prefer this to the bed,” Pitch said as Jack studied the interior. “It assures absolutely no sunlight has the chance to sneak in whilst I sleep. Oh, and I suppose I can stop pretending to untidy the bed and spare you that chore now that you know the truth. In fact…if you wish, you may have my bed. It’s far larger than any of the beds in my guest rooms, and it would place you near me should I have need of you. Or you me.”

He gave the boy a small smile and approached him to brush his fingers across the area his fangs had penetrated earlier. Jack tensed under him, but did not move away as he massaged the marks of penetration, stirring a few droplets of blood to the surface.

“We’ll see to it you’re properly washed and healed when I regain my strength,” Pitch said. “But let me see to your cleaning now before we sleep.”

He knelt to the height of Jack’s neck and ran the flat of his tongue across his skin, lapping away the dried blood there and savoring the few droplets that had arisen anew. He could feel Jack’s heartbeat pounding against his lips, tempting him to draw from him once more, but he knew better than to take from the boy again so soon.

“Now sleep,” he said softly, his voice wavering as he fought the urge to keep the other with him, tucked against him as he slept. Even as cool as Jack’s skin must have seemed to other mortals, he was a welcome warmth against Pitch’s wraithlike frame. He longed to have him near to him in the coffin, lapping at his neck whenever the urge struck him during the day, to fall into slumber to the rhythm of Jack’s heartbeat. Though it would be soft as the flutter of moth’s wings as he slept, the sound of life, however faint, was a roar in the ears of one who had been unliving for so very long.

Jack turned away and closed the door behind him, leaving Pitch alone in the dark room. The familiar silence embraced him as he tucked himself into the coffin, but he did not shut his eyes and sleep.

* * *

 

Not entirely too far away, for the world was smaller in the days in which Pitch and Jack lived, another powerful vampire and his own boy servant awaited the arrival of guests. This vampire was Pitch’s opposite in nearly every way. Where Pitch was thin and tall, he was short and rotund. Pitch’s skin was ashen, this vampire’s was a bright, ethereal white that shone like the light of the moon. He was nearly bald except for a strand of golden hair that he cherished, and always curled elaborately atop his shiny head.

Manny was this vampire’s name, and aside him stood a silent guard that vampirism had long ago trapped forever in boyhood – Nightlight they called him, for he carried a staff that reflected in the light of the moon and illuminated their entire palace of vampires in a false sunlight. Nightlight rarely spoke and preferred to keep to himself when he was not at Manny’s side. He liked to wander the palace and cause trouble as a mischievous child might, though he was as old as Pitch.

Nightlight knew Pitch, as did Manny. The vampire population was not nearly as staggering as that of humans, and thus it was inevitable vampires ran across one another over the course of centuries. Manny and Nightlight had once tried to persuade Pitch to join them in uniting vampires under a single rule, to control the actions of their brethren and prevent the overkilling of humankind to assure a supply of blood for the years to come. It had been long ago when he refused. Manny and Nightlight had let him go, working together to fulfill their vision of establishing a rule over their brethren. Though their kind remained hated by humankind, it was comforting to have at least some sort of internal control.

Vampires were not forbidden to hunt and kill in cold blood under Manny’s rule, but most vampires were not Pitch. In Pitch’s time away from Manny and other vampires, he’d grown much too powerful and gotten horrifically careless in his killings. Manny thought he might be rid of problems when Pitch was forced to flee to the New World to escape angry humans and vampires alike, but apparently his habits had not changed when he stepped onto the colonial shores. He killed for fun – which was not unheard of among their kind – but what made him especially repulsive was his disregard for tact. He attracted far too much attention and did not seem to care that it threatened to undo their entire society.

Vampire hunting had become very popular in recent times, and Manny was entirely convinced this was the fault of his old rival. Yet the vampire hunters’ zeal for glory was something Manny wondered if he might use to his advantage to rid himself of Pitch at last.

Manny plotted to gather the strongest and most able of vampire hunters to target Pitch. The task was not as simple as asking hunters to come to his palace and chat, for they were as distrustful of Manny and his counsel of elite vampires as they were of the common rabble that stalked about graveyards. Manny had craftily ‘let slip’ the location of his council chambers, sending out disguised vampires to drop hints in dark taverns or whisper the path in the ears of travelers. He knew that the chance to kill the head of the vampires would lure countless fame-seeking heroes to him.

Indeed it had, but none thus far had made it past the various obstacles and traps Manny had set before his chambers to weed out the weak. For a good long while, hunter after hunter gored themself upon a spike or was victim to a lesser vampire lurking in the shadows. Blood was so plentiful that the palace fountains spilled over with red and Nightlight joked in his quiet way about the others getting too fat to defend themselves.

Manny wondered if that was truly what had happened when an exasperated member of his counsel at last announced to him that a group of hunters had made it further than any others thus far, and would surely break the barriers to the interior of the council chambers.

“Let them come if they can,” Manny said, folding his hands over his fat tummy and smiling. “We’ll see how they fair against Nightlight.”

The hunters were a motley crew of humans from all across Europe and the neighboring Asia. Whom Manny supposed was the leader, for he charged in to the chambers ahead of them all, was a tall, fit man wearing a heavy woolen red coat trimmed with black about the collar and wrists. Despite his apparel, he was quick on his feet and wielded dual swords (of silver, Manny guessed, for the material was optimal against fighting vampires) with grace. He was a young man, a trace of a black beard on his face, and short black hair beneath his woolen hat. Pity that in time he would lose such dark features to the gray of old age.

Behind the leader came another, taller man, darker in complexion. He was grey-haired, Manny noted, but his face appeared younger than his head of hair would lead one to believe. He wore ragged pants and leather braces on his lower arms, but had not bothered with a shirt or shoes. His body was raked with scars that looked to be the result of some terrible beast tearing at his flesh, but Manny did not have time to ponder these. Nightlight burst from beside of him toward the third of the intruders.

A woman.  She might have been a welcome sight to Manny normally, so few were his female companions among the vampires. The woman was copper-skinned with black roots atop a head that was dyed the colors of the Indian forest, with peacock feathers woven throughout.  She too wielded two swords like her leader, though hers were stylized in the fashion of a different culture, curved and slender where the man’s were thick and blunt. Manny watched as she drew her swords before her face just in time to avoid a blow to the face from Nightlight’s staff. She was able to throw him off by pushing all of her weight against the swords, and would have sliced off Nightlight’s head had he not been far quicker than the usual foe.

The last of the brigade was a laughably stout little man who reminded Manny of the genies of lore. He wore a golden robe and had traces of sand all over him, as if he’d braved a sandstorm to reach the chambers. Manny watched him teeter in among all the chaos, seeming unperturbed. As the woman and the other two men fought Nightlight, who was giving them quite a run for their money, he calmly walked closer to where Manny was seated. Manny did not intend to move from his comfortable spot above the action, head resting on one hand, until the little man produced two thin leather whips of out seemingly thin air.

_Snap!_ One of the whips caught around his leg and pulled Manny from his seat, onto the first step at the top of the flight. He cried out for Nightlight as he felt his bottom drag across the stairs and eventually hit the ground below. His companion was at his rescue in an instant. Nightlight darted away from the others, and whisked his master free of the whip’s snare and back up to his seat, where he had to take a moment to catch his breath.

Nightlight threw his staff in front of Manny as the others made an attempt to rush them, and let lose a horrific scream that startled them enough to keep them from coming any closer.

“Wait!” Manny panted, holding up a hand in surrender. “My friends, my friends! We must talk!”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to,” the grey-haired man growled at him. “You’ve got no friends here!”

“You’ll find you’re very wrong on that count,” Manny said, snapping his fingers to summon the remainder of his council, whom had been lurking in the shadows in case anyone should breach the main room. Dozens of vampire men swarmed about the small group like flies to a corpse. That at least got the lot of them to stand still, though they still had arms braced for another attack.

“Now can we please see these weapons put aside for the moment, friends?” Manny sighed. “I have drawn you here for a purpose.”

“A purpose?” the leader burst out, his white face reddening. “A purpose? To get yourself killed!”

“Listen! Stay your weapons and listen, you meatheads!” Manny shouted, getting out of his seat just to stamp his foot on the ground for emphasis. “Did you really think you just so happened to find the location of my council chambers so easily? Do you still believe such nonsense after seeing the strew of bones leading into this place? I brought you here, for my purposes! Now you will listen!”

The red-faced leader had to bite his lip to keep from spouting out another word, but it appeared that had done the trick for the time being.

“Good,” Manny said, smiling warmly. He took note of the way the four of them studied his teeth, counting each fang. He had six in total, like Pitch and Nightlight, for the more ancient a vampire becomes the more evolved his feeding must be. “Now I must say, I am rather impressed you all thought to form a team. You are the only ones yet to have combined your strengths.”

The others looked sheepish, and the woman spoke.

“We were not united in coming here,” she explained. “We…happened to meet in the tunnels. I was not going to join them had Sandy not suggested it.”

The little man in the golden robe pointed to himself and nodded, indicating he was Sandy, and the one behind their uniting.

“They,” the woman snorted, pointing to the leader and grey-haired man. “Are far too loud and clumsy! I could have easily made it here without their help.”

The leader cursed angrily.

“You could have made it? Really?” he spat at her. “If I had not warned you of that trap, you would have been snapped in two from the start!”

“I did not expect such a dishonorable tactic! It isn’t my fault I lack the depraved mind of a common thief!”

“I will have you know—“

“Oh be silent,” Manny groaned, seating himself once again. “My council and I have eternity and I could not stomach one more minute of your boring prattle!”

Nightlight sniggered against his hand.

“Now for the love of whatever gods you pray to, tell me who you are, and make it quick!”

Manny’s curt manner seemed to unsettle them for a good moment, before one boldly stepped forward.

“Nicholas St. North,” said the leader, brandishing a sword. “King of thieves, master of swordsmanship, and –“

“Incredibly ill-tempered,” his white-haired companion added.

“—apprentice of magic,” North finished, ignoring the remark.

He looked as if he wanted to go on, but Manny did not have the patience to listen to the man’s life story. He gestured to the white-haired man, who refused to speak until he was prodded forward by the end of a vampire’s spear.

“…Bunny,” he muttered, swatting the spear. “Little joke they had back home. Thought it a right appropriate nickname for a werewolf.”

“Ah, so that’s what you are,” Manny said. “I’d wondered what terrific beast tore at your flesh and left you so heinous. I thought your kind all dead by now.”

“All but me,” Bunny said lowly. “I believe one of your fellas saw to that.”

“My – oh, _Pitch_. Yes, I believe he _did_ go off and kill a great deal of werewolves, now that I think of it. My poor beast, you’ll find you and I share a great deal in common in regards to that particular vampire. You want him dead?”

“Yes.”

“Haha! Then you and I could not be more alike.”

“Wait, wait, who is this Pitch?” North demanded.

The woman glared at him before rolling her eyes.

“All true hunters know of him,” she said. “Though I would not expect treasure-seeking bandits to be aware. Pitch Black is a vampire of legend. Immensely powerful, ancient, said to be immune to the traditional weapons of silver and other holy symbols.”

“Yes, yes, all true, all true,” Manny affirmed. “And who might you be, lovely?”

She regarded him with the same glare she’d thrown North’s way.

“Tooth,” she said, before reaching beneath her shirt and retrieving a necklace. The necklace was a string of pointed fangs, presumably from vampires she’d slain in the past. Most of the fangs were the long, familiar fangs of juvenile vampires; Manny did not spot any of the smaller ones that designated an elder.

“Some want revenge, some want gold,” she said as she tucked the necklace away. “I’m just a collector.”

Manny laughed in delight.

“Oh my dear, you will see the end to your collection yet if you agree to my plot! I hear Pitch Black has the whitest, sharpest teeth of all vampires!”

“I came here to kill you,” Tooth said. “What is this about Pitch Black? No one has seen him in centuries.”

“No human,” Manny corrected. “But he lives, ah, yes, he lives. He’s moved himself over to the New World after that ah, incident a few hundred years ago. But he’s quite troublesome, you see, even there. I sought to find only the greatest hunter to face him – and I have four! Four delightful hunters who have bested my gauntlet!”

Little Sandy raised an eyebrow at the woman, who turned to the werewolf, who looked to their bold leader for some sort of guidance. This was not the epic battle they had anticipated. In fact, it almost seemed that their dreaded enemy was being friendly to them, seeking to strike a bargain.

“What is it you want, vampire?” North demanded.

“Something far more valuable than whatever treasure you sought in coming here,” Manny replied. “Look, this Pitch fellow – I think we all agree he’s rather bothersome. You kill him, whatever relics he’s collected over the years are your’s for the taking. His teeth, his bloody hide – whatever it is you want, it’s your’s. If you kill me, you’ll find the fragile control I maintain over my kind will unravel, and they will seek out your fellow mortals with no regard for anything but their own bloodlust.”

“You’re telling us you maintain control over the other vampires?” Tooth snorted, incredulous. “Some control if you can’t stop all the killings I’ve witnessed.”

“Slay me and you will wish for such insignificant numbers again,” Manny said. “But perhaps a bit more control could be asserted, if I did not have to fret over this Pitch constantly. I could actually see to my duties as a ruler if he were not a priority. Oh for hell’s sake, lower your weapons!”

The others at last complied, letting their weapons fall to their sides.

“Now what say you, hunters? You’ve proven yourselves more than capable in my eyes to face Pitch. Think of the glory, the treasure… the chance at true peace for your race.”

Bunny sighed, and was the first to step forward, a scarred and unusually furry hand extended.

“I don’t trust you a damned minute,” he muttered as Manny excitedly shook his hand. “But even the chance to face that coward again, to see him hurt the way the others did—“

Sandy was next. Though never speaking, it was obvious that he also sought some retribution in facing Pitch. Tooth did not shake his hand, but nodded her agreement. Now he only had to bag the leader…

“And you, Bandit King?”

“If you have lied to me, I will find you once again,” North said. “And I will not give you a chance to speak.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well. Now shall you join the rest of us against this foe?”

North took a long moment to chew at his bottom lip, pondering.

“You say this Pitch has ancient treasure, yes?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch and Jack are growing used to their new life together, but it still bothers Pitch that he hasn't yet won over his new companion. He at last gives into his desperation and tries to engage Jack carnally, and is surprised by the response he receives. Meanwhile, the vampire hunters arrive in the colonies and meet their host, Ombric, and his daughter Katherine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks. Just a quick note before you get down to reading. I really, really struggled with this chapter for months, and decided even if I do feel it's imperfect I needed to post it because I have a nasty habit of leaving fic unfinished. I wrote this in the middle of finishing my last semester of college, moving, and taking a new job. I realized in writing this chapter that there is much about my style that can be improved upon, so hopefully chapters that follow will reflect my endeavors to refine my writing. The next chapters will also get down to the 'grit' of the fic - the vampire hunters (Guardians) will target Pitch, Jack will make a surprising decision, and the true fight will begin. Rating may change to 'E' in the future. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy despite any mistakes. :)

Even the most unusual of circumstances fall victim to routine. After a month in the constant company of Pitch, Jack had learned to wake at twilight and crawl into bed at dawn after seeing his master to bed. Perhaps most surprising to the boy was the fact he no longer tensed when the vampire fed from him, having grown used to the sharp prick of his teeth and lapping of his tongue against whatever flesh he pierced. Pitch was not cruel – he took blood from him frequently to spare Jack the wooziness that a long feeding begat, and quickly spoke of something unrelated to distract him as he healed the wound. Overall, it was not nearly as terrible as he’d anticipated. He was allowed to roam the mansion when he was not busy with chores, and Pitch gave him reading and writing lessons in the early morning when the house was quietest.

That was something he’d not quite grasped as quickly. After a lifetime of illiteracy, understanding the mechanics of letters and the art of reading was the most humiliating and frustrating task Jack endured under Pitch. He all but wanted to throw the inkwell across the room whenever he compared his childish, shaky letters to the elegant, curving ones of his teacher. 

“I can’t,” he’d huffed, stabbing the quill down into the inkwell. He knew he must seem childish and rash, but he’d rather be seen as that than too stupid to mimic letters.

“Look at me,” Pitch had said, grasping his chin and making him turn to face him. “I am centuries older than you, dear boy. Do you think because you’ve never written in 18 years I find you a fool? I find it miraculous you’ve learned to not trip over your own feet at such an age.”

Nevertheless, Pitch eventually relented on letters and they focused entirely on reading from the Bible. Jack found it amusing a vampire would keep a holy book when it was thought the very touch of a cross was enough to burn them to cinders. Pitch did not burn, nor even seem remotely stirred, as his long, graceful fingers thumbed through the pages of the tome.

“You will at least be familiar with the stories,” Pitch had given as reason for his choice of book. “Once you put the story together with the words, they shall make sense.”

They read by candlelight, Pitch looming over Jack like a benevolent shadow as his young companion sounded out words, occasionally looking back in befuddlement for help. Pitch treasured these moments, the only time it seemed to him that Jack forgot entirely of their arrangement and reached out to him as a mentor, or something more than a mere master. 

Unfortunately, Jack began to grow just as frustrated with reading as he had with copying letters when he began to struggle with Hebrew names and the more unusual words he encountered.

“What sort of word is this?” he said one night, pointing to the word ‘provender’.

Pitch looked over his shoulder and said the word aloud.

“It means fodder, like the sort you fed your sheep.”

Jack returned to muttering under his breath, stammering through the sentence until he reached its end and gave a great puff of air as if he’d just finished a race. Pitch smiled slightly, studying the boy with amusement.

“If you tire of these stories, perhaps it would be best to move onto something else,” he said, rising to attend to his bookshelf. “It’s in a similar vein. Now just give me a moment…”

His fingertips felt the spine of each book, searching for the papery edges of the work he sought. Surely it was here somewhere…

“Why do you even keep the Bible?” Jack mumbled behind him. “Is there even a God?”

“Ye of so little faith,” Pitch chuckled, continuing to scan the shelf. “It takes one encounter with a vampire to shatter the beliefs so carefully ingrained into that precious head of your’s?”

“No. It wasn’t just that.”

“Well in any case, it’s no use asking me. I’m as any man, more or less. I was born a mortal, and I’ve never encountered God nor devil in my time on Earth. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

He found the work he was searching for, a manuscript so thin its sparse pages were easily held together by leather strips. The paper was fragile and crumbling, but thankfully the starkness of the print stood out well enough it could still be read even in light of the fact the sheets were wraiths. He held it out for Jack to observe the title and the woodcut drawing that had been printed beneath it. All the words were unfamiliar to him excepting “the”, which he proudly read aloud before falling into awkward silence.

“The Tragical History of the Life and Death of Doctor Faustus,” Pitch clarified. “The story of a man and his demons.”

Jack took the manuscript and eyed the woodcut drawing before flipping through the pages.

“It is of particular interest to me that you learn this play,” Pitch said, leaning over Jack’s shoulder as he was accustomed to doing. “I’ve noted your discomfort around me, and I believe there is no better way to show you the symbiosis of our relationship than through Dr. Faustus and his Mephistopheles. Are you familiar at all with this tale?”

A shake of the head, as expected.

“The greatest treasure to all of Hell is a mortal soul, which is simultaneously the most undervalued of man’s possessions. This Dr. Faustus strikes a bargain, thinking he’s bested Satan in selling something he’ll never touch or see for ultimate knowledge. He’s given a servant of hell, Mephistopheles, for the remainder of his years on Earth. And well, I shan’t spoil the ending for you – but keep in mind, my precious boy, how both beings play their part. Faustus may be but an unwitting mortal who’s damned his soul to Hell, but without his cooperation the supposedly all-powerful hellfolk get nothing. Such is the same for you and I. You should never fear that I’ll harm you.”

He tapped a long finger under Jack’s chin.

“I need you. And I shall give you whatever it is you desire for the sake of your continued…services. Excepting your freedom, of course.”

“Of course,” Jack murmured. “I understand the bargain we made, and I’ve promised to remain with you until the end of my days because you saved my mother and sister from death. I won’t betray you, Pitch.”

Pitch moved his hand to the boy’s head, stroking his hair gently.

“It isn’t so terrible being here, is it? I know you must miss your family, but I hope that in time you treasure my company as you treasured theirs.”

Pitch read some of Dr. Faustus aloud to Jack for the remainder of their lesson that night, before the two of them headed to bed. Jack dressed in his nightshirt and curled into the large bed within the master bedroom, while Pitch retreated to the smaller room conjoined to the bedroom where a coffin was stored. 

Pitch tried to rest, but found he could not settle his mind. He lingered on thoughts of his young companion in the next room. He could feel his presence, a soft rise and fall of breath that stirred the dust in the room and made the sheets scratch against the duvet, but that was not enough to assuage him. He feared Jack would leave despite his promise, that when the sun rose and Pitch could not follow he would flee.

He pushed open the lid of his coffin, the bed that served as a mockery of a slumber that would never give him peace. His eyes took in every crevice and cobweb of the small room. He wondered why his kind was able to see the things of night as if the world were colored in a dulled sunlight, when there was never a beautiful thing in the darkness. Empty homes, abandoned fields, the bloodied mouths of predators, the slow decay of prey. The darkness held no wonderful, secret beauty beneath its cloak.

His bitter thoughts dissipated when he opened the door to the bedroom and looked upon the sleeping boy beneath his sheets. Jack was pale as virgin snow upon the darkness of the bed. Pitch then realized what had kept him awake when he looked upon the unblemished skin – he’d not fed that night. He could make out the faint scent of the boy’s blood thrumming beneath his skin, and it make his gut twist in the way it might when he’d not fed for weeks. What was it about this young mortal that enthralled him so?

Pitch sat on the bed’s edge, looking down at Jack and contemplating. He brushed his fingertips over his skin, watching Jack’s body stir in the grey light of his shadowy world. It was a shame that Jack should grow old, and such smooth skin would ball into itself to become as crumbled as despised, unsent letters. Pitch had watched dozens of companions crinkle and decay before him over his many years as an immortal, though the beauty he’d fallen in love with often remained. Sometimes it was only the twinkle in their eyes, the youth he’d thought gone forever tucked behind creases of age. 

And though he no longer felt passion for those withered souls, no longer felt the longing he felt now, he respected the creatures called humans that could so easily accept the decay of their body and face death. The worst were those that smiled at him as they went. He was terrified of the fate they so readily embraced, though none knew this and he would never speak such fears aloud. It was all that haunted him – not the sight of those dying of illness, not those gasping for breath as he drained their bodies of life – it was the smiling faces of the elderly that went happily into death.

He felt Jack’s heartbeat hasten beneath his fingers, and was ready when Jack opened his eyes to meet his own.

“I’m sorry to have woken you.”

“It’s okay…” Jack said sleepily, sitting up. “Did you need…something?”

Though tempting, he wouldn’t ask to feed from him so soon after Jack had woken. He smiled softly, though he doubted Jack could make out his features in the darkness, and cupped his face.

“Might you join me for a walk, Jack? It’s something I often do when I find myself restless.”

He left the offer open-ended to a refusal, but knew he would join him anyway. He allowed Jack time to pull on his boots before leading him through the dark home out into the wintery night. The moon was barely a sliver in the sky, and the wind bit coldly at their skin.

“I’ve wanted to show you something for some time now, Jack,” Pitch said as he led Jack toward the back of the home. “As you know, I’ve had several companions before you came to me. Some of them lived with me a very long time - all of them lived here until the end of their lives. Though I’ve only been in this land for a short time and doubt I shall remain long enough for what I’ve done to matter, I did cherish my companions and wanted something to commemorate them.”

He led Jack through a mess of dead vines and what would become an unruly garden come summer, toward an area that had obviously had more care than the rest. In a small clearing, there were three tombstones aligned near one another. Each looked as if it had been carefully and lovingly carved by an artisan’s hands; they were so unlike the crude wooden crosses that were made for poorer men.

Pitch stopped before the tombstones and let Jack crouch down to observe the names and dates, though he had to ask for clarification on many of the words.

“My last companion died nearly two decades ago,” he told Jack when he read off the last date.

“So it’s been a long while since you’ve had anyone here,” Jack murmured.

“It may seem so to you, but twenty years may as well be two hours to me. Mortal lives are so brief. I sometimes feel as though I watched my companions sprint through their entire existence toward a finish line that offered no reward.”

_And someday, you too will collapse at the end of your race to no celebration_ , Pitch thought as he looked expressionlessly upon Jack. _Though I would have you by my side to sit and observe the night for all eternity, you would rather run toward an ending. So it has been for many others… but why you?_

“Who were they?” Jack asked.

“Oh… well, the first name you read – John… he was the first man I took as a blood slave when I came to the colonies. He was sick when I came across him, with some disease that had spread through his village and killed nearly all of his fellow men. Hallucinating, screaming of darkness and terrible creatures when I approached – but I laid my hands on him and drew the sickness from him. He helped me erect a small home for the two of us, and eventually started the foundation of the mansion…”

And then John had died, leaving the skeleton of the mansion and himself behind.

“And there was William. I found him drunk in the river after John died, and fed from him. He wouldn’t stop rambling when I was feeding so I stopped before I’d killed him and left him there to sleep it off on the shores. He followed me home and slammed me up against the side of the home John and I had shared – I’d never know a human so bold, even if it was the alcohol fueling his actions. I took him as a lover and he stayed with me until the drink spoiled his blood and killed him.”

“And lastly...” he tensed when he came to the freshest of the graves. “James… James was neither strong nor bold like the others, but he lived a very long time and kept me company. He aided me in finishing the mansion, and he always found joy in my books no matter how many times he read them. He died at a much older age than the others. I tried to heal him, but he refused the Gift, and my healing could not mend age…”

The sickening memory of James’ smile as he lay dying came to mind once more. To think his new, young lover, so full of vigor and barely a toe dipped into the ocean of life, should wrinkle and wither so soon. Would he smile the same? Would he refuse and refuse and refuse the Gift no matter how desperately Pitch begged him not to go, please don’t leave…

“I cared for each of them, Jack, in the way I will care for you. I will never let you hunger or lack for anything you want again, and…since you have no want of immortality, I will be the one to tuck you into the earth when that time comes.”

Jack seemed unsure of how to respond after that, so Pitch suggested that they head back toward the home. He didn’t know what he’d hoped to accomplish in showing Jack the tombs. Had he thought it would convince the boy that some inkling of humanity remained within him, that he was capable of caring? The silence of dead men was no testimony to his goodness any more than giving Jack shelter, fine clothing, and food was, apparently. Nothing he’d done had won more than formal courtesies and begrudging acceptance from the boy. He wanted passion and desire. It frustrated him that he’d yet to enthrall Jack.

On the way back toward the home’s entrance, Pitch stopped to enter the cellar and retrieve a bottle of wine for the two of them to share. He still had to feed, and the least he could do after his failure at the gravesite was to soothe Jack with wine. It would have no effect on him other than to serve as a tang of bitterness on his tongue, but Jack was virgin to any alcohol but beer to his knowledge. It would hopefully mollify his nerves and let him relax.

He came to the row in the cellar where the oldest of his wines were stored. Some bottles were missing from their racks, having been drunk long ago with another companion. Yet one of the first wines Pitch had collected was still sitting dusty in its place, waiting. He took it and returned to Jack, and soon they were back within the house and seated at the dining table. Pitch lit candles for Jack’s sake, and poured him a full glass.

Pitch watched the minute twisting of Jack’s face he tried to hide as he was sipping on the wine. It was an acquired taste as was said, but Jack managed it well enough. Pitch watched him sip down more and more of it, as if he were afraid to displease Pitch by daring to set his glass down.

“You know,” Pitch said, his interjection giving Jack time to put down the glass. “Blood runs richer the purer the soul. We are purest when we come forth into the world, with blood that flows clear as spring water. Every vice in which a man partakes is like a drop of ink, clouding the waters until eventually it overwhelms, and everything is thick with blackness. You will find, however, that many things young and pure simply do not sate the palette. The wine you are drinking is very old and imbued with spices. You are of a younger vintage, but I can certainly taste a hint of vice in your veins – your spice, you might say.”

Jack flushed a light pink in the candlelight.

“A tumble with a village girl? Cursing under your breath in the pews? I can’t fathom what sin you might have committed.”

“No,” Jack said quietly.

“What then? I’m curious as to what could have possibly been the drop of ink in such a seemingly pure soul.”

“I know what it was. It was asking for death.”

Jack surprised Pitch with his answer. He’d known the boy to be poor and from unfortunate circumstances, but he’d never thought…

“I am…I hope you do not feel that way any longer.”

Jack didn’t answer. Pitch didn’t want the boy so miserable that thoughts of self-destruction plagued him! But such thoughts had never permeated Pitch’s mind, and he was unsure of how to respond.

“As I promised you, I will give you the finest of clothing and gifts, and you will travel and dine just as the richest of people do. I’ll do this if only to show you that life is not so terrible. I hope this is the second chance you’ve always wished for.”

“And it won’t taint my blood, being given these things?”

“I will oversee your habits, Jack. You may partake in many things, but we will assure you do not fall to vice.”

Though in his mind, Pitch thought it would be better the boy become a lush and fuck whores every night if it meant freeing his mind of death. Each scenario held the potential to taint the blood, but for whatever reason it was more important the boy yearn to live.

Jack took another long drink of his wine.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little…dizzy,” Jack responded. “It’s not like beer…”

“No Jack,” Pitch chuckled. “It’s not like beer. You needn’t drink any more if you dislike it.”

“No, it’s just…different.”

“I hope it has relaxed you a bit. That was my intent in giving it to you.”

Jack looked up at him with wide eyes, heavy with tiredness. His lips were wetted by a few red droplets of the wine, and his skin was flushed the same pink as when he blushed. Pitch felt another sort of desire begin to stir in his gut, one that he’d promised he’d quash until his new companion voiced the same want. It was difficult to refrain, however, seeing Jack like this.

“Jack,” he said. “I would like to feed now, before we return to bed.”

“Yes, of course.”

He found himself kneeling beside Jack’s chair, the boy staring down at him with a lazy, puzzled gaze. He pushed the nightshirt Jack wore up just enough to kiss the skin of his knee, and when Jack didn’t protest, next his hands moved up and down the boy’s soft calve. This time, Pitch welcomed the nervous thrum of Jack’s heartbeat. He relished the way his breath hitched and how his muscles tensed beneath his touch, the way Jack gasped when his nightshirt was lifted further and Pitch’s fingertips grazed his thigh. He stopped and looked up to Jack, their eyes meeting.

“I know I’ve never bitten you here,” he said softly, pressing his lips gently against the pale, soft skin of Jack’s inner thigh. “You’re so very warm, Jack. Your blood is boiling beneath the surface here, I just want…”

Jack stared down at him for a few frantic heartbeats. Pitch made to rise from his place on the floor and aid Jack back to the bedroom where he could suckle from the boy’s wrist, but Jack’s hand shot out and rested on his shoulder, applying gentle pressure.

“Do I…I don’t know what to do,” Jack admitted.

“Nothing, you needn’t do anything,” Pitch answered, his voice practically quivering with excitement. “Let me feed from your thigh, let me touch you. Let me give you pleasure.”

He waited for Jack to nod before resuming his touches. This time, he tugged the nightshirt even higher so that it rested against Jack’s belly, exposing a light set of undergarments. Jack’s cock strained against the fabric, already roused from his master’s touches. Pitch ran his hands up his thighs and brushed his fingers over Jack’s cock, making his companion whimper softly. God, but weren’t humans sensitive? The scrape of his nails and light nips against Jack’s skin made pre-cum leak into the fabric of his underwear. What would happen should he put his mouth on him, or slide a finger or two inside?

He bared his fangs and raked them over the flesh of Jack’s thigh, before stilling and letting them prick the skin and sink in slowly. Jack whined, fingers curling in the cushion of the chair at the pain. It was a soft, vulnerable part of a human from which Pitch fed, more so because Jack could not deny the way the pain fueled his arousal. Pitch had noted over several recent feedings from Jack’s neck or wrist that the boy had begun hardening during those times, but he’d not mentioned it out of courtesy. Now there was no hiding it or pretending it didn’t exist for either of them. 

Blood ran down the boy’s thigh as swiftly as it would from a virgin’s slit, cutting across his white flesh in rivulets. Pitch withdraw his fangs after a moment and focused on tracing the streams of blood with his tongue, making Jack sigh and groan and twist in the chair. He’d never felt the boy so warm before, and his heat and the smell of his arousal kept Pitch latched to his thigh for a long while. His cold tongue lapped the blood away until there were only the two deep holes remaining as evidence of his feeding.

“Has anyone ever done this for you?” Pitch said, kissing the base of Jack’s cock through the fabric to let him know his intent.

“No,” Jack said, his voiced strained. “Your teeth aren’t going to—“

Pitch laughed and showed Jack his teeth. His fangs had been withdrawn to prevent any...unfortunate punctures. 

“All safely put away, dear boy. Now do you want this?” 

“Of course--”

That was all the permission Pitch required. Jack immediately silenced when Pitch tugged his undergarments down, exposing the pale cock beneath. Pitch admired him for all but a moment before immediately swallowing him to mid-shaft.

Perhaps second to the taste of Jack’s blood was the taste of his arousal. The sweat and musk against Pitch’s tongue was wonderful, and he let Jack know this the only way he could without a voice, by lapping at the skin with the flat of his tongue as hard as he could manage. As he took more of him into his mouth and throat, he cupped his sac and massaged gently, driving Jack’s whimpers to moans. He was especially pleased when he felt the boy’s thin fingers tangle in his hair, gripping tightly when he felt himself grow near. Pitch knew it would not be long given it was Jack’s first experience.

His young companion’s blood pulsed through the cock in his mouth, as if for the first time wanting to be near Pitch, wanting to give him a part of Jack. The few times before that Jack had hardened when he fed could be called purely accidental, but in this Jack was actively begging him to touch him, to suck him, to make him feel good. His name was spilling from those sweet lips in whispers. Jack’s hips pressed forward and his fingers tugged Pitch closer. This was the passion Pitch had so desired, even if he’d had to orchestrate the act.

“I…I think I’m close,” Jack told him, and Pitch glanced up as he continued to suck and lick, hoping the boy would understand he meant to let him come in his mouth. He either did or was too drunk on the wine to care, for the next warning Pitch got was a tightening of Jack’s fingers and a rush of come against his tongue. Jack called to God as he spilled down Pitch’s throat, and Pitch let him still before swallowing and pulling away.

He got to his feet and offered Jack a hand. Jack stumbled just as much as Pitch presumed he would, so he took him into his arms and carried him up the flight of stairs to the room they shared. It would be daylight soon, so Pitch knew he must return to his coffin in the next room. He didn’t want to leave Jack, and found himself sitting on the bed’s edge once more after he’d put the boy down. Unexpectedly, Jack crawled to where he sat, leaning over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I…is there anything you wanted?”

“Your blood was all that I asked of you when you came to me,” Pitch said softly, though inside he yearned for the boy to sleep aside him that night. How pitiful he was, how very desperate. 

“But you… you didn’t have to do that for me,” Jack said. “You could have left me to take care of myself-”

“As I have the past few times,” Pitch replied, chuckling when Jack’s face reddened. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve encountered many who are aroused by the feeding.”

“But…but is there nothing you want?” Jack pressed.

“I’m not some ravenous creature out to have you. If in time you express a desire for more, I shall have what I want of you in this manner. Your blood is enough to sate me forever after if you never want me otherwise. However…”

He swallowed thickly, feeling more ashamed than he had in years. Asking such a personal thing of a mortal, letting down his guard…

“Perhaps…well, I grow lonely in my room. If you would humor me…I request that you stay with me tonight.”

“In the coffin?”

“Yes, Jack, in the coffin. It’s unsafe for me to stay in the bedroom, lest sunlight seep through the curtains and burn me. I understand it is not a comfortable sleeping arrangement…”

“I will if you want,” Jack said before he could continue. “I…I sometimes get lonely too. My parents and sister and I used to share a bed before everyone got sick… I miss having someone next to me.”

“I…if you’re certain, then.”

Pitch took Jack’s hand and led him through the darkness to where his coffin lay in the middle of the room. He helped him in first before climbing in beside of him and shutting the lid over them. There was no sound but the fast little thump-thump of Jack’s heart.

“You’re not scared of tight places, are you?” Pitch asked, chuckling.

“No. It’s actually…kind of nice being this close to someone again.”

Jack snuggled against his chest. Though normally Pitch found the walls of the coffin confining, he felt they were more of a snug embrace that night, pushing Jack’s small, warm body against him. Jack fell asleep nearly instantly, the wine and his exhaustion overpowering him.

And this time, Pitch fell in dreamless, blissful sleep too.

***

The very night Manny struck a bargain with the vampire hunters whom had come into his service, a ship set sail for the colonies. The four hunters departed from the shores of Europe with as much knowledge as Manny could offer about Pitch’s whereabouts, a crew of vampire’s slaves to man the ship, and enough provisions to last them for the voyage. 

It was several weeks before they reached the shores of the colonies, where the man that would shelter them until their mission was completed met them. He looked like a wizard out of a fairytale, long white hair and beard, a pointed hat, and loose, flowing robes. Accompanying him was an unexpected guest, a young girl with wavy auburn hair dressed in a yellow coat.

“Ombric Shalazar,” the man introduced himself. “And my daughter, Katherine. I received Manny’s letter that you would be joining us in the fight against Pitch. Any enemy of Pitch is welcome under our roof.”

“Is it true you’ve all fought vampires before?” Katherine said excitedly, stepping between Ombric and the hunters, a grin plastered on her face. “Can you tell me about it? I want to write a book about vampires, but since I’ve never seen one—“

“You must excuse Katherine, vampires have become of interest to her since she heard Pitch was in the colonies,” Ombric chuckled as they made their way toward the carriage he’d brought to the docks.

“Ah, well I can tell you a great deal about vampires,” North said, earning an eyeroll from Tooth, who knew he was the one among them with the least knowledge. “And plenty of other stories about treasure and faraway kingdoms.”

Katherine’s eyes widened and she immediately began pressing North for his stories. The two of them trailed behind the rest of the group, chattering happily.

Tooth was more concerned with learning what she could from this Ombric, and how soon they could begin their work.

“I will help you as much as I can,” Ombric told Tooth. “My workshop has weaponry and potions that are at your disposal, of course. And I am not too shabby in a battle myself, though I know I must not look the part! Say, is that—“

Ombric halted suddenly, distracted by something - something which turned out to be Bunny.

“So you’re the werewolf!” he exclaimed, charging up to look at his features and prod at the fur on his arms. “Fascinating, I must ask you something regarding your transformations--”

“Er,” Bunny said. “I haven’t transformed in some time, old man. I keep myself inside when the moon’s up. Don’t want to hurt anyone anymore—“

“No, no!” Ombric said excitedly. “But I’ve done a great deal of research since I heard you’d be coming, and I think I might have found a way to control them.”

“Oh… well in that case—“

“Ahem,” Tooth said, growing annoyed that all of her companions seemed so easily distracted. At least Sandy was on her side, standing with his arms crossed beside of her. “We should discuss all of this when we’ve actually gotten to your workshop, Ombric. I wanted to sleep sometime tonight.”

“Ah, of course. You can see where Katherine gets her excitability…”

And so it was that the four hunters, Ombric, and Katherine climbed into their carriage and departed for the mysterious village of Santoff Claussen – a small, quaint town in which Manny had put his entire faith for the future of humankind and vampires alike.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch thinks only of turning his young lover, of keeping him forever. Meanwhile, the vampire hunters hired to do away with Pitch prepare for their attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient with me. I'm afraid I'm a terribly slow writer between life and my dissatisfaction with what my fingertips produce. Nevertheless, I hope those of you reading find this chapter adequate. I will continuously strive to improve, so feel free to help me out with critique.
> 
> All of you have my gratitude. It makes me happy there are folks who have enjoyed this little story of mine, despite the imperfections and gaps between chapters. Many thanks.

Any who entered the home of Pitch Black would think it long abandoned upon their first steps into the silent halls and unlit rooms. The first floor was indeed quite vacant, boasting only a stray mouse or spider its tenant, but if one lingered long enough, they would detect the faint thrum of life from above. Those of Pitch’s kind would smell the blood, sense the weak vibrations of a pulse flowing through living flesh, and feel the rusted movement of old, old bones – and eventually, even the weakest of ears and most human of trespassers would hear the unmistakable noise of passion.

Following the night Jack allowed Pitch to feed from his thigh and joined him in his coffin, a great many things changed in the relationship of the vampire and his blood slave. No longer did Jack tense when Pitch rested his hand against his shoulder as they read together by candlelight. The fear coursing through Jack’s blood that had been so bitter against his tongue was replaced by the taste of desire, as Jack now allowed himself to feel the pleasure associated with the bite instead of only focusing on the pain. It was a wonderful turn of events indeed.

Despite the evolution of their relationship, it still surprised Pitch when Jack asked to join him in his coffin a second time. Though Pitch insisted that it would be fine for Jack to remain in the larger, more comfortable bed, his little lover assured him it was what he wanted. He’d confessed he felt lonely and vulnerable sleeping by himself after the day spent resting in Pitch’s embrace. Soon, such a sleeping arrangement became routine. Jack slept tucked against Pitch in the coffin each day, and Pitch took to waking him at night by piercing the flesh of his neck and suckling the wound until the throb of pain roused him.

Jack’s abandoned bed did not fall to disuse, however. As new lovers eager to explore one another, Pitch and Jack often found themselves distracted from studies or dinner and venturing to the room to sate their lusts. Jack was inexperienced and rather shy in regards to intimacy, and preferred to let Pitch initiate their encounters. This did not bother Pitch -- he’d lived a long, long time and learned a myriad of erotic practices over the years he was always eager to share with his mortal lovers. Some of the things he knew were so ancient their practice was buried beneath sands in faraway lands, and they were forgotten all but in the fingertips of the vampire. Admittedly, however, Pitch was rather giddy with delight when Jack at last became comfortable enough to return his gestures without coaxing, even if his touches were clumsy, born of instinct rather than practice.

There was yet another change, far more subtle but equally enticing to Pitch, that came about during this time. Due to his new habit of sleeping during the day, Jack began to lose what little color he had to him as more time went by, until the pallor of his skin was nearly that of a fledgling vampire. It only made him more beautiful in Pitch’s eyes, and in secret, it made his fantasies of Jack as one of his own so much easier. Though Jack had insisted countless times he did not wish to be turned, Pitch found himself increasingly tempted to defy his wishes. At times he nearly drove himself to madness trying to find a hint of desire for the Gift of vampirism in Jack’s words, or even in the silent gestures of his body when they were together. It was never there, no matter how much he distorted Jack’s actions.

He tried to convince himself it was enough that they lay together, entangled as lovers, yet night after night, the urge returned. His belly could be distended with Jack’s warm lifeblood and it felt as though his body was empty when Jack smiled and there was no glint of a fang. He wanted him beyond this shallow love mortal life permitted. Once, it had been enough. It had always been enough with the others he’d taken as lovers – yes, he mourned when they withered and died, but their mortality had not tortured him when they were young and beautiful like Jack.

He’d not thought of death when he lay aside his lovers in their youth, only smelled their life and ignored the decay creeping through their veins. Death was all that he thought of when he was with Jack. When he nuzzled the curling hairs at the base of Jack’s groin, he felt only a sign of age against his lips, a sign Jack had grown out of the body of a child and was nearer to the grave than he would have been only years earlier. When Jack’s nails dug into his skin he thought of how mortal fingernails grew so rapidly, how Jack’s entire body was growing and stretching and aging so, so quickly. He thought of the way mortals bloomed into middle age before the withering rot overwhelmed them.

He could not stand his thoughts, yet somehow, he managed to quash the urge to turn Jack each time they lay together.

“You are so pale and lovely, my little lily,” he told Jack one night as he nuzzled the wound of his creation on Jack’s neck. He’d fed from him earlier until Jack was faint, and they’d slept a short while before he roused him once more. Pitch’s lips brushing against Jack’s neck caused blood to blossom to the surface again, and he drank lazily. “You are the greatest treasure to have ever been placed at the foot of my tomb.”

“Is that so?” Jack murmured softly, his arms lazily cast over Pitch’s shoulders. “Over all the years, me?”

“Do you doubt my sincerity?”

“I think you’re drunk on blood and lust as usual.”

“You’ve grown bold, haven’t you? I’m beginning to think I’ve made a mistake in forgoing etiquette lessons as part of your studies.”

Jack gave him a small smile, and it did not matter if he was drunk on the taste of him and his judgment was forever clouded by the desire to be around and within his companion every moment they lay awake, and then some in his dreams. He brought his bloody lips to Jack’s own pale, pink mouth and kissed him. When the familiar tension of Jack’s muscles returned after so long an absence, he realized it was the first time he’d let Jack taste himself. Usually he had the courtesy to rinse his mouth before kissing Jack following a feeding, but tonight he’d forgotten his manners it seemed. Perhaps the both of them could benefit from etiquette lessons.

He drew back, a sticky gossamer web of red spittle connecting them. When he looked down at Jack and saw the blood smeared across his lips and cheek, the want to turn him surged. It had been so long since he’d given another the Gift, and in that moment it did not matter how woefully wrong his decision had been the last time. How easy it would be to force the transformation on Jack. The first part had already taken place, all he had to do was give Jack his own blood and his fate would be sealed. Jack would be angry with him, but he could not leave him. He would depend on Pitch to show him how to hunt and feed, and over the centuries he would surely forgive... it would be different this time.

“How do you taste?” Pitch asked, his voice low, strained so that it almost quavered.

“It’s... like metal,” Jack said, earning a chuckle from Pitch. “What?”

“I forget you cannot taste it. Metal...how dull. I wish you could know the flavor of passion, the spice of desire. I want...so badly I want you to taste...”

He was cut short when Jack’s arms around his neck tugged him forward into another kiss, more urgent and passionate than the last. He then focused only on his immediate want, to touch and be touched. Jack’s hands fell from his neck to the small of his back, rubbing gently. Pitch pressed forward in response, letting Jack feel the hot hardness between his legs.

He’d yet to pierce Jack with his cock, though he ached for it each time they fell into bed. He longed to be inside of Jack’s body beyond the shallow depths his fangs could reach, wanted to reach Jack’s very soul in fucking him, wanted to join their bodies together in a closeness only turning Jack would surpass. His kissing became nearly violent as his want grew, and he bit down onto Jack’s bottom lip to coax out more of his taste.

“You’ll be what ends me at last,” he breathed when they parted. “Undress, for the love of God.”

He released Jack from beneath him and began to undo his own clothing. The both of them were full to the brim with lust, cocks hard and pupils blown black. It amazed him how little it took to rouse the young mortal to such a state – Jack was unbearably aroused from only the feeding and a bit of friction through their clothing. The blood had done it for Pitch – Jack was not wrong to call him ‘drunk’ on it. When they were undressed, Jack did not resist Pitch when he lay atop him again, pressing their naked cocks together and thrusting his hips forward.

“You should let me inside,” Pitch growled softly. “I can make you feel good.”

“This feels good,” Jack replied, seemingly content to be pleasured in this way. It was as always – he would allow the fangs to sink deep into his flesh, but shied from the mere suggestion of being taken. It annoyed Pitch to no end, for he did not see why such a thing should frighten Jack when it held no more pain than the bite. He wondered perhaps if a vestigial fear of God’s wrath lingered in the boy, who had been raised to believe love between men was worth an eternity in some imaginary hell.

“Better, then. I’ll make you feel better.”

Jack ignored him, tossing his head to the side to expose his bloody neck. Pitch knew he was hoping to distract him, and though he did accept the invitation and began lapping at the wound once more, he also ceased his motions with his hips. Jack made a frustrated noise and tried to move on his own before Pitch reached down to grasp his companion’s hipbone in a steely grip.

“Turn over.”

“But I--”

“Over. I am not going to hurt you, Jack. You must trust me.”

Jack sighed, but pushed Pitch off of him and rolled over onto his stomach without further argument. Tentatively he spread the milky thighs Pitch was so eager to be between.

Pitch seated himself between Jack’s spread legs, resting his hands on his shoulders before beginning to massage gently. Jack was nervous now, fearing he would taken without preamble, so it was essential he calm the boy. He worked his hands from Jack’s lean shoulders down to his ribs, running his fingertips between each bone. Jack was still so very thin despite the rich food and drink Pitch gave him, though it did not matter. Pitch had taken lovers that cushioned his own rail thin frame against their plush bodies in lovemaking, and waifs even smaller than Jack that felt like a ghost atop him. He found Jack’s thinness only yet another thing of beauty. He liked the press of his bones against skin, the sharpness of his hips, and the way he felt every vertebrae arch under his fingertips as he massaged Jack’s body.

“What have I done across the centuries to deserve you?” Pitch mused aloud. “Such a beautiful body, and the richest blood I’ve ever known.”

Jack was quiet, but Pitch was too lost in his exploration of Jack’s body to question his silence. He worked his thumbs into the muscle at the small of the boy’s back and felt blood pulsing beneath his touch as the muscle was forced to relax. His hands moved to grasp Jack’s buttocks, kneading the flesh and spreading him to look down at the entrance to which he’d thus far been barred from breaching. His thumb brushed across it and applied gentle pressure, and Jack at last made a soft noise.

“Have you been reading the passage in Dr. Faustus I assigned you?” Pitch asked as a means of distracting Jack.

“Yes, I’m nearly done,” Jack said, his voice a murmur against the pillow against which his chin was propped.

“I trust you are telling the truth. Later I will have you recite it for me.”

He dipped a slender finger into the lubricant he’d set aside earlier, wetting it properly before pressing it against Jack’s hole. Expectedly, Jack went rigid, despite all of Pitch’s careful touches and attempts to soothe.

“Relax. It is only a finger, you’ve taken as much before. We will not go any further if it doesn’t feel good.”

With his free hand gripping one of the boy’s buttocks to expose his hole, he pressed the slicked finger forward into the heat of Jack’s body. It eased inside of him as smoothly as a fang into the skin of his wrist. Though undeniably tense, Jack did not try to squirm away or whimper in discomfort as he had the first few times they’d done this.

“All right?” Pitch asked him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss the shell of Jack’s ear.

“Yes,” was the strained response. “A little...uncomfortable. It doesn’t hurt.”

“After several times, I hope it brings you nothing but pleasure, my lily.”

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out was the only noise throughout the bedroom, though Pitch could also detect the rapid beating of Jack’s heart. His little lover was such a precious, unscathed thing that still quivered at the slightest touch. The thrumming of his blood would roar in Pitch’s ears when he at last entered his body.

It would not be that night, however, as minutes later warmth flooded onto the bedclothes under Jack, surprising the both of them. Jack had come, suddenly, unexpectedly, from the ministrations of Pitch’s finger alone.

“Sorry,” Jack muttered, though Pitch doubted he regretted anything by the way he’d screamed upon his release. “You can still… if you want…”

The smell of the come spilled across his sheets made Pitch hunger again. He rolled Jack onto his back and went between his thighs to lap up the stickiness.

“Don’t fret, little one” he murmured against Jack’s skin, tasting him. “Not tonight, then, since I’ve already fed and made you feel so good. Not tonight. It doesn’t matter. We have all the time in the world.”

He closed his eyes and hoped the sting of Jack’s come against his tongue would make him forget that they really didn’t. Jack breathed in and out, and Pitch wondered how many more times he would see that chest rise and fall before it relaxed into eternal stillness. He swallowed, cursing that he could feel every part of Jack growing, expanding, ever nearing death.

***

Tooth had thought their host strange upon first meeting him, but nothing could have prepared her for the odd little village Ombric and his daughter inhabited. A hollowed tree far larger than any she’d ever seen, which served as a home for the Shalazars and schoolhouse for children during the day, was the centerpiece of Santoff Claussen. The village was not unusual in appearance otherwise - a few homes and shops were scattered around the area near the great tree, and it was too small a place to even warrant horses or carriages for travel, other than the one they’d taken from the docks - but soon it was apparent there was something quite special about the town.

Children played among beasts of the forests (including a large, terrifying bear that had made all four of the vampire hunters draw their weapons before Ombric assured them the bear was tame). Fantastical, mechanical creations lumbered along the streets aside human villagers, who didn’t so much as give them a second glance. The great tree was aglow with fireflies that blinked not only green, but colors ranging from mauve to turquoise. The village was a beautiful sight that gave them pause once they were assured the bear was not going to leap at them - beautiful, yet worth scrutiny.

“What is this?” Tooth had demanded, refusing to enter the village without explanation. “What are you?”

Ombric had only smiled.

“You’re content to accept that immortal demons and men that are half wolf roam the earth, but it startles you when a human has taken advantage of the mysticism in the world?”

“I don’t think you’re human, first of all.”

“You are wise to question. However, I must ask you to put aside any fear. I look enough like you, speak your tongue, and we both want to bring about the end of Pitch. If it bothers you the arrangement of our internal organs might differ a bit, I suspect you’re rather critical of pregnant women too.”

“He’s right,” North had agreed, knocking himself down yet another peg in Tooth’s book, but immediately sealing what would come to be a strong friendship with Ombric. “There is no time to argue over technicalities. This is about defeating Pitch. We are all in this together - vampire, human, and... old man with strange organs.”

And so they entered the village, despite Tooth’s distrust of their host, and settled into life among friendly beasts, precocious children, and mechanical wonders. A few weeks passed and North, whom Tooth had thus far credited as being only a blundering thief, did prove himself an exceptional inventor. He took an interest in Ombric’s mechanical creations, and within a short time he managed to craft mechanical constructions of his own, toys for the children of the village. Although small, the toys were well put together and had a range of simple functions. One was shaped like a cat and could chase after a mechanical mouse North made to go along with it. Another was humanoid, and could play a decent game of hopscotch until it needed a bit of oil.

Ombric’s young daughter Katherine took to North like an older brother, and he was never short of stories to tell her or games to play. The other village children enjoyed his company too, which Tooth thought made sense as he tended to act like an overgrown child himself. However, she could not deny her doubts about his character were tested when she caught him bent over an experiment or passed out with a book of runes in his hands. Not that she told him such things!

She spent much of her own time with a set of books that focused on the history of vampirism, Bunny aside her most days. Initially, Ombric had kept Bunny in his laboratory for days on end. The old man insisted he had found a cure for lycanthropy, and was eager to test his research on a real werewolf. Something had eventually driven Bunny into the library; they never spoke of the reason Bunny stopped letting Ombric experiment, but Tooth suspected the cure had failed.

Out of the other three hunters, Bunny was the one she found herself drawn to the most. Despite her initial opinion of him as loud and clumsy, he proved quiet in private. Sandy was not brash or annoying like North, and he made for a good friend, but something about the werewolf’s presence soothed her when it should unnerve her, his animalistic nature making her feel more human among the strange villagers.

She learned a great deal about him in the time they studied together. How he’d once had a family, a pack of others afflicted with the same curse, before Pitch slaughtered them seemingly out of pure spite. She learned he’d soothed his anguish with the bottle, and become more violent than he ever was during the light of a full moon. Only after much suffering had he vowed to put aside drink and pursue vampires to avenge his brethren.

It made the others’ reasoning for pursuing Pitch seem shallow - for treasure or fame, to collect trophies to string about their necks. Bunny assured her, however, that no matter who at last ended Pitch, for whatever reason, the slayer would be a hero.

“So much suffering across the centuries,” he sighed to her one evening, as they worked through yet another volume on the history of vampirism. Pitch’s rise to power was well documented, and thus he was the subject of much of their reading.

“I know this is hard for you,” Tooth replied. “But I’m glad you’re here. You’re the only one among us that has ever actually seen Pitch. We’d be going into this blind otherwise.”

Bunny chuckled.

“I’m not going to be much help,” he said. “It’s been centuries since I last saw his face. I was just a young pup, easing into the life. Suspect that’s why he didn’t bother killing me too - figured I’d die on my own without my family. Trouble is, we’re a lot like his folk. We don’t just die because we’re starving or injured. Takes a lot to kill a thing like me...”

A dread washed over Tooth, her eyes flicking to the deep, thick scars across Bunny’s bare chest. He met her eyes when she looked up and they swallowed down the stammered question and uncomfortable reply. She did not need to see Bunny’s were form to understand the knives that had dragged across his flesh were always kept at his sides. Gods, what a horrible life this man had lived – and he’d tried to end it himself and failed.

“I didn’t realize you were so old,” she said in place of her question, and the tension eased, like steam releasing from one of the machines that wandered the village.

“You flatter me. Gone almost completely white and grey in the head, and you’re trying to make me feel like a young buck again. I figure I’m doing all right for an old guy, though. No aches, no wandering about like a lost fool, everything’s in proper working order...”

He gave her a lopsided smile that made her avert her gaze. The last thing she needed was a distraction from their mission. A distraction in the form of a tall, admittedly handsome-for-his-age werewolf nonetheless.

They did not talk during the remainder of their session that day, reading in silence until North joined them later in the evening, his enthusiastic call of ‘hello’ breaking their quiet. Katherine was with him as usual, carrying with her a notebook she’d take notes in during the meeting that night.

“What have you been doing all day?” Bunny asked. It was unusual North would not at least poke his head into the library, even during the days he was working on an experiment.

“Oh, a bit of this and that,” North said, grinning. Katherine seemed to be in on whatever secret he was hiding, for she grinned too. “You’ll see.”

“Another toy?” Tooth snorted. “Perhaps a dog to chase the cat chasing the mouse?”

“It’s fantastic!” Katherine exclaimed, earning a ‘shush’ from North. “I know, I’m not going to tell them! But...you’ll see. It’s great. Soon we’ll be able to get Pitch--”

“We?” North said, amused. “Are you coming too, kisa*?”

“Why shouldn’t I get to come? I’m the one who brought you tea every night you were working on - it. Who wrote down all your stories and drew pictures for you? I have every right--”

“Yes, yes,” North chuckled, ruffling her hair and receiving a pout in return. “But you know your father will not allow it. And if he did, I certainly would not.”

“Why?” Katherine groaned, exasperated.

“It is dangerous. Too dangerous for the likes of me, and certainly too dangerous for a little Kat.”

“It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it? Miss Tooth, you’ll make them take me won’t you? You wouldn’t let me miss out on a chance like this just because I’m a girl.”

Katherine saw that her prior argument was not going to win her a place among the hunters ranks, so she’d turned to Tooth for support. Unfortunately for Katherine, Tooth was not swayed either.

“It is not because you are a girl,” Tooth said. “It is because you are young and inexperienced. If you truly wish to hunt vampires, I shall talk to your father about beginning lessons. Why don’t you read some of the books in the library to be sure it’s what you really want to do first?”

“I’ve read all those books.”

“Impressive. Between Bunny and I, we have yet to get through even two of the dozens in a month.”

“I didn’t do anything else for nearly half of last year,” Katherine said. “When Father told me about Pitch, I went straight to the library and found all the books on vampires. He had to remind me to eat because I couldn’t pull myself away from the books. You don’t believe I read all of them, do you? I took notes and everything. I started my own book... it’s not finished though. I need to see a real vampire to make it perfect. I’ll show you!”

Katherine turned on her heels and ran out of the library to seek out her book. North shook his head and laughed softly.

“If she truly has read all of these books, perhaps you’d be better off just asking her whatever it is you’ve been looking for,” North said to Tooth.

“North,” Tooth said. “I know Katherine is dear to you, and she is a very wise child, but we cannot trust a little girl to provide us our information.”

“And why not? Children are not fools. I think you are afraid she will know the answer and you will be forced to admit that you wasted an entire month with your nose in history books instead of honing a meaningful craft, like me.

“You arrogant knave. While the rest of us have been studying and preparing for our attack, you’ve done nothing but read for pleasure and create silly little robot toys for children.”

“Silly little toys! Oh, but they were only practice for a much greater thing. Yes, you will see!”

A noise at the door made them turn. They expected it was Katherine, returned with her book, but Ombric and Sandy greeted them instead.

“Ah, where is Katherine?” Ombric asked as he approached the table they were gathered around. “She would surely want to be here when we unveil North’s work.”

“She’s off to fetch some book,” North said. “Said it was something she worked on last year after reading up on vampires.”

“Oh yes, Katherine’s been working on that for quite some time now. It’s a storybook based on her readings. She feels it will never been completed unless she has a chance to see a vampire in the flesh.”

“We heard,” Tooth said. “Katherine is trying to convince us to take her with us when we face Pitch.”

“Oh goodness, no. She can’t go along on so dangerous a mission.”

“We’re not fools. I am simply telling you what she’s been attempting.”

“Say,” North interjected. “Just how many of these vampire books did Katherine get through last year?”

“All of them,” Ombric answered. “She became obsessed. I’d never seen her so enthralled with a subject

“And would you say she understood these books?”

“I believe so. She took extensive notes on her readings, and I noted little musings in the margins. Amateur philosophizing, I’d say. There were questions - some as simplistic as “why do the older vampires have six fangs?” jotted down, and later answered in another ink when she’d come across her reason. Others were left without answers - questions that should probably be sent to Manny in time, once this whole Pitch ordeal is behind us. But yes, Katherine is quite dedicated to her interest in vampirism, a future scholar on the subject even!”

North gave Tooth a smug look.

“So would we be fools to ask her questions of our own?” North asked. “If we could trust Katherine to provide us with accurate information, it might be far quicker than sorting through all these books for another decade.”

“I have faith Katherine could accurately answer nearly any question you ask of her,” Ombric said, unable to hide the pride behind his words.

“Is that so?” Tooth huffed. “I’ve been searching through these volumes as to one hint of a weak spot on Pitch. Manny told us nothing but his strengths - his immunity to holy symbols and silver, and the possibility he can even stand sunlight now.”

“Pitch does have a weak spot!”

It was Katherine, returned with her book and an armful of notes.

“Really now? And what might that be?”

Katherine dropped her book and notes onto the table, and crossed her arms as she looked up at Tooth with a smug grin.

“If I tell you, you have to let me go.”

“Katherine,” Ombric chided.

“Please! I have to go, I want to see Pitch! You’re always talking about all the times you met Manny and his council and I’ve never even seen a real vampire, not even one! Please let me go!”

“Listen,” Ombric sighed. “Perhaps I will send a message to Manny. I will ask him to send one of his vampires to visit us. Would you like that? That way we will not have to worry about you getting hurt. Hmm? You would get along with Nightlight.”

“I guess,” Katherine muttered, not sounding too excited about the prospect of meeting one of Manny’s “tame” vampires. It would be like seeing a tiger in a zoo – not quite the same as seeing it stalking in the darkness of the jungle, unrestrained by cage bars.

“Kisa, be cheerful,” North said, clapping a hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Even if you cannot be with us in person, all the spirit you put into helping me with our machine will fight alongside us. Let’s show them what we’ve made!”

North’s secret creation was unveiled at last. From behind the library doors came a knock, and then the groan of the doors opening. Tooth backed into Bunny when a mammoth of a robot stepped inside, steam pouring from its valves. It resembled the humanoid robot North made to play hopscotch with the children, though it was far bulkier and equipped with weaponry on its hands and shoulders. It’s movements were labored, awkward, but it looked steady enough. For having been built in only a month’s time, it was certainly extraordinary.

“Our secret weapon,” North said proudly. “With this, we are unstoppable against Pitch! Death to the vampire!”

“Death to the vampire!” Katherine cried excitedly, seeming to forget her sullenness at being barred from joining their hunt.

“Impressive,” Bunny muttered.

“We’ll see,” Tooth said. Yes, the robot was an impressive thing for an amateur to create in such a short time, but did it have any value in battle? She crossed her arms and looked down to Sandy, whose enthusiastic smile faded when he saw the doubtful expression on her face.

“Katherine, as you were saying – Pitch’s weak spot?”

 

Notes:

*Kisa - “Kitten” in Russian. I thought it would be a cute nickname for Katherine since her name can be shortened to Kat, and a little “Kat” would be a kitten.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> North, Tooth, Sandy, and Bunny, four vampire hunters chosen to defeat the powerful vampire Pitch, descend into the bowels of his territory at last. Armed with their individual strengths, a bit of magic, and a mechanical man, they prepare to defeat the vampire at whatever the cost... but perhaps they're not as ready as they believe.

As the four hunters made their way through the forest leading to Pitch’s home, Bunny mused on what Katherine said to them in Santoff Claussen. His three companions had immediately dismissed her when she revealed what she’d read to be Pitch’s supposed weakness. Even North, who was like a surrogate brother to the young girl, had not taken her seriously, and had gone as far as to laugh at her. By the time he managed an insincere apology for his behavior, Katherine had ran away to her room in tears. That had dampened his mood a bit, but Tooth assured the lot of them that their doubt was justified - what Katherine suggested was just silly, the thing of fairy tales.

Bunny was doubtful at first too, perhaps more so than the others given he’d known Pitch’s cruelty first hand. To suggest that the vampire was capable of love seemed preposterous, and Katherine’s tale took it a step further by suggesting he cared for humans… humans, the very creatures vampires fed from to survive. If there existed any affection for the humans that vampires kept as blood slaves, it was the sort of affection a farmer felt for his pig - he wasn’t fattening it up and keeping it from disease for the animal’s sake.

“No listen!” Katherine had insisted when she saw the incredulous looks she received upon announcing Pitch’s weakness as ‘love’. “It was in the history books, I promise! Pitch, he… he had a family once. There was a woman, a mortal woman, who lived with Pitch--”

“Sweetie,” Tooth had chuckled. “A blood slave. Vampires sometimes keep humans within their homes so they do not need to seek out new victims each night. The humans may live with them a long time because vampires do not need to exsanguinate the body entirely as they would when they’re not sure when their next meal might come.”

“No, she wasn’t a blood slave! Pitch loved her. Y-yes, she let him feed from her, but they had a family together - a daughter.”

“I’ve never heard such a thing,” Ombric had interjected, making his daughter sigh in exasperation. “Katherine, are you certain this was from one of the history books, or a book of vampire fairy tales --”

“Why don’t any of you believe me? Just let me finish! It was in the history books… it was taken from a diary the writer found in an abandoned mansion in France. It was the woman’s diary, and she talked about her life with Pitch, how he loved her, how she loved him… the way he took her from poverty and made her into a lady, showed her how beautiful the streets of Paris could be at night when she didn’t have to wander them in search of coin…”

“I did not know my little Kat was a fan of romance novels,” North had snorted. “Yes, I am afraid you stumbled upon a legend, kisa.”

Katherine shot him a glare before continuing.

“She became pregnant, and Pitch was surprised because he didn’t know vampires could have children. In her diary she wrote that he was happy, though, that he even stopped feeding from her because he was worried it might hurt their child. And then… and then the writer included another excerpt, this one taken from a letter by Pitch. This woman… she gave birth to the child, and Pitch took the baby to the washroom to clean. When he returned the mother was dead, bled out in silence. Pitch wrote of how he’d bitten her, tried to bring her back, sobbed for the first time since he’d been turned long ago.”

“He left the letter on the bed next to her, telling her spirit he was going away with their daughter in search of a new home that did not remind him so much of her. And then they left, and their daughter – whom he named Seraphina– grew into a young woman, as beautiful as her mother, and as human. Pitch turned her in fear of losing yet another person he loved. Except it didn’t work in his favor. In fact, it made Seraphina hate him. She left him all alone, and he never turned another. He still took mortal lovers, yes, but never another woman because he feared history repeating itself—“

Everyone insisted Katherine was mistaken, and North laughed when she argued even more passionately that the tale was indeed true, leading to her angry retreat. As they left, Bunny thought little of the tale, given it did sound too farfetched to be true. However, now that the four of them were ever nearing their goal, he considered it once more. Love… if Pitch could feel love, he could feel other things beyond mere instinct. It meant he could also feel despair, jealousy, and a range of emotions they could use against him if physical means proved useless.

The large war machine North constructed back in the village lumbered beside of them, much too loudly for anyone’s comfort. Though they were coming upon Pitch unexpected, and during the day when he would be shut up asleep in his coffin, it was well known vampires had hearing abilities that transcended those of mortals. The strange mechanical noise of the robot and the vibrations it send throughout the forest were loud enough that they would rouse sleeping humans, let alone the supernatural. North waved aside the notion with his usual careless bravado– after all, what did it matter if they woke him? He would not be able to rush out into the sunlight to confront them.

Bunny grew increasingly worried as their journey progressed. The machine’s sluggish pace slowed them considerably, and the wide window they’d been given by leaving early in the morning was closing with each passing minute. The sun was already descending into the hills when they finally came to the edge of Pitch’s territory. Though they all feared the vampire’s strength in darkness, another worry ate at Bunny alone. The night held power over him that neither mortals nor vampires would ever understand. It had been years since he’d allowed a full moon to cast its light on him and transform him into the ghastly form of a werewolf, so intensely he feared the power of the night... but he’d agreed that they would confront Pitch on the day a full moon was scheduled to rise.

Ombric devised the plan back in the village -- should his companions fail to defeat Pitch during daylight hours, he would flee and hide away until moonrise. Once the moon transformed his body, he would return to fight Pitch, devoid of any purpose but to kill or die in his attempt. He knew if it came to that, he would certainly die. Pitch had killed all of his werewolf brethren, beasts far stronger and wiser than he, even when they outnumbered him by the dozens. Their strength had failed them. Their numbers meant nothing. He tried his best not even think of the terrible odds for four people and a lumbering robot, let alone himself, confronting Pitch.

Ombric warned them ahead of time that something akin to an energy barrier blocked them from going further than the areas he marked on their map. Though lacking physicality, the barrier’s effects were felt if one tried to descend beyond a certain point. Bunny felt queasy as they walked on, the beginnings of a headache coming on. He wondered how far they could go before the effects overwhelmed, and they’d collapse in agony, unable to move.

North gave an irritated growl and stopped the group, unwilling to let the headache grow any worse, and distributed the medicines prepared by Ombric. Supposedly, it would negate the effects of the barrier for a time. Each of them got a needle filled with a clear liquid and self-administered. Bunny thought back to the unsuccessful trials with Ombric’s potion that supposedly “cured” lycanthropy as the needle slide beneath his skin. How successful would this potion be? More importantly, how successful was it really supposed to be?

He waited for the pain to grow worse as they went deeper and deeper in Pitch’s territory, but the headache faded and all seemed well, so he did not speak his doubts aloud.

* * *

 

Pitch stirred. At first, his senses were confused as to why his body was awake during the daylight hours, a time long barred to his awareness. In a short while, he realized he was awake because something was amiss. There was noise, strange and mechanized, that sang notes across the foundation of the home and crept up into the walls. It sounded as though a machine of some sort was nearby, though Pitch could not name the source. The noise did not resemble the noise of a horse drawn carriage or the other machines familiar to Pitch. It was out of place.

Jack was curled against his chest as usual, but the boy awoke as well when he felt Pitch move. Now accustomed to being roused during the night, his body was aware of a change as well.

“Pitch? What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“It isn’t night,” Pitch replied, sitting up to open the lid of the coffin. “There’s something wrong. I think someone has broken through the barriers surrounding the home.”

“What? What are you talking about…”

“Barriers,” Pitch hissed. “I’ve carefully protected this home so that none may come upon it unless I will it. But it seems someone has broken through my defenses and is on the property. Someone or something.”

The mechanical noise was gone for the time being – perhaps whatever it was had sensed Pitch knew of its presence and ceased its movement. But it was too late if it meant to disguise itself, for Pitch had heard it and was now bound and determined to find the source of the noise.

“Pitch, you can’t get up… it’s the middle of the day,” Jack said. “I’ll go and check to see if there’s anything downstairs.”

“Don’t be a fool. If there is something downstairs, it’s very likely something that means us harm. You wouldn’t be able to do anything to defend yourself or me. Stay here while I check. The few windows in the home are shaded, so it isn’t as risky as it seems.”

Admittedly, Pitch was rather touched Jack cared enough to offer his services at all. Yet what he said was true – there was no hope that Jack, a mere mortal, could defend against whatever foe had worked its way past his barriers. The barriers were of powerful magic, meaning whomever or whatever had broken through them had equally powerful magic on its side. He could not risk Jack being harmed or killed by such a foe. He cared so deeply for the young boy, in a way he had not allowed himself to care for another since Sera and the mortal woman that had died for his carelessness. To lose him would be to lose what little remained of his will to endure the horrific existence of a vampire.

Silently and swiftly Pitch crept through the home, dodging the little rays of sunlight that leaked through the window panes. God above, why had he allowed his mortal lovers to build such things in this home? True, they provided the illusion that the home was that of a normal being, and allowed him a fine view of the moon and night sky upon fair nights, but now he could barely contain himself from cursing them aloud. The intensified vision allowed by the light hurt his senses, and it was all he could do not to squint and rub at his eyes as he made his way through the home. It appeared something had indeed worked its way inside the home by the state of the great entrance door. To a mortal, the door would not appear disturbed, but Pitch could make out where it had shifted slightly. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was also a new dent along the top of the door’s frame, as though something had brushed against it when entering. What creature was he dealing with? The door was nearly 10 feet in height…

When he smelled the air for the scent of the intruder, he realized that not one, but several mortals had managed to weasel inside. How soft and stupid had he become of late, letting such a thing happen? Why had he not detected them well before they entered the area? He growled under his breath as he followed a trail of one of the scents, listening carefully for the sound of breath or heartbeat. He was rather conspicuous in his movements, not bothering to slink from shadow to shadow. He supposed if he had several pairs of eyes watching him it would be no good to attempt to shield himself.

He found the first intruder rather easily – too easily for his liking, and he voiced as much upon locking eyes with the man in question.

“I suspect you’re a distraction,” he said blandly.

“You aren’t entirely wrong,” answered the bearded man, and then from behind there came a terrible noise, like that of a teakettle’s whistle amplified several thousand times. It had the desired effect – Pitch whipped around to face the source of the noise. He was met with the site of a towering, mechanized man. The sight was not unfamiliar, thought Pitch knew not terms like “robot”. Pitch faced what he knew as a ‘golem’, and when it strained its artificial limbs in his direction he rationalized the key to its defeat was the weakness of any golem. It lay in carving the creature’s source of power out.

Pitch did not move toward the golem, watching it to see its ability. The mortal was fumbling for weapons behind him, and he deemed him the greater threat when he noted the golem was neither fast-moving nor particularly menacing. He turned on the human, who gasped in surprise as he was taken by the throat.

“A damned fool you are wandering in here, golem or no,” hissed Pitch, raising the mortal above his head as easily as he would a doll. “I smelled your companions. They stink of mortality. For ones who were clever enough to break my barriers, your stealth and weaponry are rather lacking. I’m insulted such fools have roused me from sleep.”

The man choked in his grasp, and Pitch narrowed his eyes at his reddening face, considering crushing his windpipe and being done with the ordeal. He was rather pitiful to watch, dangling in the air and kicking about like an animal or insect. Humans thought themselves so superior, and yet one need only steal their breath to drain them of all but their animalistic instincts. He watched the intruder claw at the hand around his throat in vain, and decided to let him suffer a bit longer.

He sensed the other at his back but did not bother to turn until he felt the irritating sting of a weapon connecting with his shoulder blade. Only then did Pitch drop the man upon the floor. The intruder was reduced to a weezing, trembling mess who was no longer even a shadow of a threat, and the golem was so slow-moving even the steam pouring from it and the creaking of its giant limbs were barely an afterthought. The source of the wound to Pitch’s shoulder – could it even be called a wound – was a long, leather whip wielded by a stout little man a few feet away. Such weak, foolish people had worked their way into his mansion. Insects. Even the smallest, weakest insects could work their way inside, thinking they’d come upon a place to lay their maggoty eggs. He would deal with them in much the same way he dealt with other such irritations.

While Pitch was preoccupied with the three foes he’d come in contact with, the two other hunters scouted the house unseen. Tooth was lying in wait for the proper time to attack, hidden in the shadows in view of the fight. She would be the one to lay the killing blow to Pitch’s chest, with the stake they’d fashioned in Santoff Claussen. It would not be wise to attempt to land a fatal blow at the time being, however – she would wait until her companions had driven him into exhaustion. By the looks of things, it would not be any time soon. Pitch looked more annoyed than threatened, as if the blows landed by Sandy were akin to the buzzing of a fly. North was in a corner massaging his throat, and the robot had not yet released any of the steel weapons affixed to it. She worried at her lip watching the fray, wondering where in hell Bunny had wandered off.

Bunny was following a whim, frantically searching the home for any other within the rooms – blood slaves, lovers, children, anyone living or vampiric. His senses, though weak from disuse and largely unavailable to him in human form, allowed the werewolf some reassurance that there was in fact another in the home. He couldn't quite catch the scent, but something was there, something not entirely dead and rotten like Pitch – not yet, anyway.

Room after room he peered into, hoping to catch the occupant cowering within. Yet whomever he was searching for seemed to be aware they were sought, for Bunny swore he always sensed the person shifting out of sight just as he rounded a corner. It made him growl in frustration, and just as he was about to give up and storm back downstairs to join the fight, he turned, and a knife landed square below his ribcage.

It was not a fatal stabbing, but it hurt like hell all the same, and Bunny knocked the person that held the knife across the face in his pain. The knife, barely having sunk in an inch, clattered to the floor. He let the blood drip down his bare belly and soak into his pants as he stalked toward his attacker, who was moaning in agony as they clutched at their face. The body was young and thin, and pale enough he took pause before sitting upon its haunches.

“Who in hell are you?” he demanded, ripping away the hands that shielded their identity. The swelling face of a young boy was revealed – well, that made him mortal enough. Such a blow would not have lingered on a vampire’s skin.

“Who are you?” the boy groaned in return. “Why are you in our home?”

“Our home? You’re with Pitch then, eh? Hmm? Well, boy?”

He wanted to shake him. What was this boy to Pitch? Was he a mere blood slave – Bunny checked briefly for signs of fang marks on his neck, and saw none – or was this another human lover that had caught the stone heart of the vampire? If it were so, he could drag him downstairs and use him against Pitch. But if he was wrong, what a fool he’d be… and it could put them at even greater risk.

Pitch was getting the best of the hunters downstairs. Tooth knew she should continue to wait, but seeing her companions thrown about like toys made her want to spring forth from the shadows and attack even if it would be in vain. She couldn’t sit still anymore and watch them killed before her eyes. She had to attack…

“Pitch!”

A shout resounded from the top of the stairwell, and all of them turned to the source of the noise. Bunny, sporting a bloody chest but seeming to be fine otherwise, was standing there with a young boy in his grasp. A blood slave? Another vampire? Tooth could not be sure, but whomever he was, Pitch paused when he saw Bunny holding a knife to his pale throat.

“I believe this belongs to you,” Bunny said to Pitch, pressing the knife tighter against the boy’s skin. The vampire was still as death, watching them.

“My blood slave,” he said after some hesitation. Tooth watched him carefully, wondering if that was all the boy was to Pitch. Could it be true that he cared for humans? He seemed to be consumed by worry seeing him with the knife to his throat.

“Blood slave, eh?” Bunny chuckled. “That’s all? So I suppose it won’t matter if I slit his pretty little throat right here. You can replace him.”

“Why are you here?” Pitch snarled, his fearful demeanor suddenly warping into one of rage. “Why have you come into my home to threaten me and deprive me of my food source? I’ve done nothing to attract you here. For the past century I’ve spent my time here, taking only a handful of blood slaves and victims. I’ve done nothing to deserve such an annoyance.”

“Don’t pretend to be innocent,” Bunny said. “You don’t remember me, do you? Otherwise I doubt you’d claim such things.”

“I’m afraid I don’t keep track of every disposable human I encounter,” Pitch said dryly.

“I’m not human. Not entirely. Werewolf. You do remember when those existed by the hundreds, don’t you Pitch?”

Pitch studied him, realization seeming to dawn on him when he gave Bunny a once over.

“The pup,” he said. “How unfortunate you lived. I’ll grant you the merciful death I deprived you of all those years ago if you wish.”

Bunny pressed the knife against the boy’s throat hard enough he cried out in pain. Pitch did not move toward them, and by then Bunny knew they had the upper hand. Whatever this boy was to Pitch, he was important enough that Pitch wanted him alive.

“What do you want?” Pitch asked at last.

“Your life for his,” said Bunny.

“Do you really expect me to agree to that? My life, however damned a creature I may be, is worth a thousand lifetimes of a mortal. You’ve insulted me enough. Go ahead, kill him. I want to proceed with ridding my home of the rest of you.”

Bunny watched Pitch, and saw the fury and anxiety begin to ebb from his features. His own hand was trembling as he tried to force himself to jerk it across the boy’s throat. At Pitch’s words, he’d slumped against Bunny in defeat, welcoming death. Perhaps it was merely that the boy was enthralled, kept subdued by the vampire’s spell, and he’d mistaken this for love. Bunny had been wrong about him… and now there was nothing to do but fight.

The knife clattered to the floor, but Bunny did not yet release the boy. Never in all of his years as a werewolf had he given another the curse, but perhaps doing so would lift the vampire’s spell. If the boy’s mind was cleared, and he was given such a power, he could help Bunny return and avenge his comrades once the moon rose. He bent over the boy’s neck to bite him and infect him with the curse, and that’s when there came a horrific sound from below. He looked to see that Pitch had moved from his position, quick as lightening, and smashed one of the machine’s legs. The rage on his face had returned, and he looked wild, eerily inhuman.

“Get away from him,” he snarled, baring his fangs. Before Bunny could respond, Pitch was upon him.

The boy fell from his grasp as Pitch forced Bunny down to the ground by the throat. He knew if he were entirely human he’d be dead from the blow Pitch landed to his face alone. His entire skull rang from the punch, and he felt the warmth of blood flowing down his chin. Through his dizzy vision, he could make out six sharp fangs hovering mere inches from his face. Saliva dripped onto his skin and he prepared himself for the sting of a bite. He would die at the hands of a vampire as all of his family had done. Pitch would drain him dry, leave the husk of his corpse to rot within the barriers and be forgotten…

“You filth,” Pitch snarled at him, saliva spraying onto Bunny’s cheek. “You’re worth less than mortals. A _mere animal_! That’s why I let all of your repulsive family bleed out into the Earth. Liters of blood spilled that day and I did not drink a single drop, because you are the most disgusting creatures that walk this Earth. And now there will be none of you left. How dare you try to make him into one of you! How _dare_ you attempt to spread your disease when my Gift could not even breach his body…”

Bunny was too disoriented to do more than lie and endure the abuse, though his heart raced in fury at Pitch’s words. But there was nothing he could do now, nothing but await his fate and pray he was forgiven for failing to avenge his family…

There was another noise, so loud and strange Bunny wondered if Pitch had smashed his skull in and his body was still registering it. Then Pitch fell off him, howling in shock. A thick, metal arrow protruded from his shoulder – a weapon from the robot! That damned thing had launched an attack at last. The distraction gave Bunny enough time to roll away and begin crawling down the stairs toward the others. He was at the bottom collapsing into Tooth’s arms before he dared look up. Pitch was hunched over the body of the boy, ignoring the hunters completely; the arrow was still lodged in his arm.

“Now, Tooth,” Bunny said hoarsely. “Stab the bastard. This is our chance.”

She hesitated, looking down at the horrible wounds on Bunny’s face. It wasn’t that she was afraid of enduring the same injuries – she’d endured countless cuts, broken bones, and bruises in her years as a vampire hunter. It came with the job. No… the fear that coiled in her gut was not the fear of being beaten or injured. It was a fear she’d thought she’d known up until that moment, when she was forced to admit she’d never before been in a situation where she was certain to die.

Pitch was in a berserker rage. If she drew his attention back to the strangers within his home, he was going to kill them.

“No,” she whispered. “No. No, we need to leave. We need to get out of here.”

“Tooth!” North barked at her. “You go craven now? Give me that stake, I’ll do it—“

“NO!” she shrieked. “Get out, get out now! He’ll kill us when he’s like this. We need to retreat, we can’t, we can’t—“

“You knew death was a possibility! We’re not—“

“Listen to her,” Bunny rasped. “God damn it all, listen to her. We’re too weak to fight. What good is it to die now? We die, we fail. We can return if we’re alive. We can find him again even if he sails across the sea, but not if we’re dead! Dying is giving up! Dying is cowardly! Listen to her!”

North looked as though he was going to fly up the stairs and attempt to slay Pitch despite their words, but he dropped his swords to his sides at last.

“The robot?” he said wearily.

“Leave it,” Bunny said. “Pitch destroyed much of its lower mechanisms anyway. You’ll build another one. A better one. One that will actually help us defeat him next time.”

North was so weary, so pained from his injuries and the failure of his creation, but through it all he managed a small smile.

“Next time,” he said, and the four of them bolted for the door.

* * *

 

“You were going to let him kill me,” Jack said lowly, staring up at the vampire looming over him. “I’m nothing to you. Nothing.”

After the shock of the attack wore off, Pitch carried Jack back to the bedroom in silence, where he healed the injuries he sustained. Jack’s swollen face was back to normal, and the small incision left by the knife pressed against his throat was but a memory. A horrible memory forever sealed in his mind by the words Pitch spoke in the moment it threatened to slit his throat. _Go ahead, kill him_.

Pitch did not speak to him. He’d not spoken a single word since he’d lifted Jack in his arms and retreated to the bedroom. An arrow from the machine was still wedged in his shoulder, though Pitch could have easily pulled it out and healed the injury. It was as if he were not entirely there, and Jack wondered if he’d sustained another injury out of sight that was making him act this way. His bitterness didn’t allow him to care. All he wanted was an answer, the damned truth out of this man that he’d thought cared for him!

“You don’t care about me at all, do you?”

Pitch continued to stare ahead into the void as he’d been doing for nearly an hour.

“Do you!?”

A hand clapped itself over Jack’s mouth, silencing him. Pitch directed his gaze toward him at last, and Jack saw that his eyes were wild, pupils blown wide. He was struck by how strange Pitch’s features were in that moment – he looked more animal than human. Pitch was not, of course, human – not any longer – but Jack had never seen his eyes so savage, his skin so waxen. He looked suddenly ancient, and his touch sent shivers through Jack as he swore he felt graveworms course under his skin, felt centuries of anguish tumble over his mind.

“I told you to remain behind,” Pitch said, his voice raspy from earlier screams. “I told you you were useless in a fight. Did you think I spoke in jest? Did you really think you could do anything?”

He jerked his hand away from Jack’s mouth to let him speak.

“I wanted to help you!”

“You did nothing of the sort! You nearly let that filthy werewolf infect you—“

“As long as I got killed it would be fine though, right?!”

Jack fell back against the pillows when Pitch slapped him. Tears ran down his face out of pure shock, but in the next moment he was up and screaming again.

“I’m nothing but blood to you! You told me you loved me, you told me you cared about me!”

“I said nothing of love,” Pitch spat. “My kind scorn such folly! I care what happens to you, Jack – I care for all whom I take as blood slave– but I will never love a mortal. How could a being such as I ever love something so fragile?”

Pitch clutched his shoulders, shaking him.

“Could you love a moth, Jack? No matter how beautiful it looked dancing in the flame of a candle’s light, no matter how much joy it brought you to watch it, its life is too short to mean anything! It dies and you forget it! I cannot love you! I cannot love a thing which is born and dies in the same hour! You are weak and fleeting, and I would be an imbecile to love you!”

Pitch’s hands fell from his shoulders and the wildness left him. His body went slack, and he seemed to slip into a trance again, merely staring down at his hands upon the bed. Jack’s chest was tight, his eyes burning with tears he could not cry. He said nothing as Pitch left him and retreated to the room where the coffin was kept.

Hours passed, and twilight gave way to night. Darkness consumed the room and still Pitch did not emerge to feed. Before long, the night was swept away with the coming of dawn, and at last, when the sun was sinking into the sky upon the next day, Pitch dared emerge from the small dark room where he’d hid away in the smaller, darker coffin.

Jack was not upon the bed. He was not in the study bent over the copy of Dr. Faustus. He was not in the kitchen preparing a meal. Pitch, in his panic, almost ran out into the dimly lit world to search for him among the gardens and graves of his past lovers – but he knew Jack was not there either. He could not feel his presence anywhere.

Jack was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the progress on this fic has been quite slow, I am considering halting one-chapter updates and trying to finish the entire story by mid-October . That way I can post the finished product close to Halloween (good timing for a vampire AU), and there won't be huge time gaps between updates. I do plan on finishing this thing though, whatever it takes... and next time I take on a fic this large I WILL be planning more thoroughly, man oh man! Thanks again for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,  
> But I'm know we'll meet again some sunny day.

Jack was gone.

Pitch damned himself a thousand times over for allowing such a thing to happen. He’d lost his wits following the fight with those intruders, those four weaklings that should have never been able to breach his barriers and enter the home in the first place. Thanks to his foolishness, he’d driven Jack away. Even the pain of the feedings and Jack’s isolation from other humans hadn’t made him break their contract -- Pitch’s cruel words, fueled by fury and shame, had done it.

Why hadn’t he simply killed the hunters when he first happened upon them inside the mansion? Why had he allowed his arrogance to blind him to the presence of that filthy werewolf until it was almost too late? It was all because of the werewolf he’d spoken so harshly to Jack.

His cold blood stirred at the mere thought of what had nearly transpired. He remembered watching the werewolf crane over Jack’s neck, his wolfish fangs bared. Like Pitch’s kind, werewolves could infect human beings and turn them into one of their own. It was something Pitch could never allow, not when he’d restrained himself from turning Jack into a vampire even when the desire to do so threatened to overwhelm him. That had been what broke him -- seeing fangs that were not his own about to sink into the skin of his beloved.

Beloved. God above, he did love the boy. Why had he convinced himself he did not, could not love him in the way he’d loved mortals before? He was so weary of watching them die, of each one refusing his Gift, but he’d never told any of them he didn’t love them. There were so many nights he whispered ‘love’ in the ears of drowsy blood slaves, or even victims he only knew an hour before he drained them of life. He’d not said the words to Jack in their time together, though now that he was gone the ache in his chest was testament to how powerful his feelings truly were.

Pitch despaired as the hours ticked by and darkness washed over the earth. Instinct told him to pursue Jack, to tear apart every corner of the countryside until he’d found him again. But the part of Pitch that was very much human, however small and weak it was after so many long years, kept him confined to his chair by the window. 

The copy of Dr. Faustus he’d used to aid in Jack’s reading lessons lay near the bed they’d shared, discarded several nights ago when they’d set aside reading for leisure. Pitch swallowed thickly, remembering how well Jack’s studies had been coming along, how he’d learned to read on his own after only a few short months -- and the lessons during those months never diligent, given their habit to fall into bed halfway through a reading. How miraculous indeed something so fleeting as mortals learned the habits of life in so short a time. It had taken Pitch centuries to learn how to care for himself, and yet this boy -- this boy he’d insulted for his mortality -- was a man grown in only 18 years. 

Pitch retrieved the copy of Dr. Faustus from the floor, flipping through its pages to occupy his hands. He’d hoped to show Jack the value of a mortal soul in reading the tale with him, but any hope of departing such a message was shattered by his words to Jack after the attack. He’d called him worthless, told him his life was a waste… and perhaps Pitch had believed it then, being so angry at Jack for denying him an eternity together. Now he would give anything to spend another mortal hour by the boy’s side, even if it were Jack’s last in the sunset of old age.

But Pitch would not pursue him. Jack was free of the contract if he’d not been enthralled by the vampire. It was not a law among vampires that they should free humans from their service if they did not fall under their spell, but Pitch felt it was the correct thing to do.

“Never too late,” he whispered aloud. “If Faustus will repent.”

Jack had repented of him. So be it.

\--

Only three of the five that set out for Pitch’s lair returned to Santoff Claussen. It didn’t surprise anyone that the mechanical man was not among them. It was a faulty, clumsy design by an amateur inventor, almost guaranteed to fail. Admittedly, North hadn’t felt entirely comfortable taking it along in the first place, given it was a hurried and untested design, but he’d been too proud to admit this in front of Tooth. She hounded him the entire journey back about it’s failure, but ultimately no one found its loss more than a little unfortunate.

Bunny’s disappearance, however, was a devastating blow to their cause.

North had hoped the forest trees would shield the werewolf from the light of the full moon as the hunters fled from Pitch’s home in the night, but his hopes were in vain. Within minutes of being exposed to the open air, Bunny collapsed to the ground, snarling in agony. It was painful to watch as he tried to fight back the transformation with willpower alone. Tooth attempted to intervene, tugging at him and screaming for him to hurry, that he could make it if only he’d run.

North recalled the rasp of Bunny’s voice as he attempted to speak to them with the little humanity he retained. His voice was nearer to an animal’s growl than human speech.

“Go, I’ll hurt,” he’d managed.

Tooth refused to leave his side even as coarse hair sprouted from his body and his bones cracked, shaping a new skeleton. It’d taken North physically wrenching her from Bunny to get her away, and even then she’d struggled to get out of his grasp and back to him. He vaguely remembered lifting her over his shoulder as his feet took off beneath him. He was wounded, but terror drove him to run, to get far away from the changing werewolf as fast as possible. North was thankful Sandy was fast despite his short stature and legs, because he didn’t stop to think of grabbing him until he was well away from Bunny.

“We thought maybe he’d return here after the transformation wore off,” North said to Ombric. The old man, Sandy, and Tooth were crowded around North’s bed where he’d been resting since they returned. His wounds were more grievous than he’d previously thought, and they’d only been worsened when he bolted through the forest with Tooth over his shoulder. Ombric’s potions and mending helped the recovery a little, but only time would heal the damage now.

“No, he never returned,” Ombric sighed in response to North. “There is still hope he will find his way back. It has only been a few days. I suspect he ran the opposite way to avoid attacking you. He should be able to pick up your scent even in human form and follow your path…”

Katherine then entered the room carrying a hot meal. Behind her tailed the pale, waifish vampire named Nightlight. Nightlight was Manny’s guard, and North had only met him once before -- when he was the enemy. During their absence, he’d been summoned to Santoff Claussen as a reward for Katherine. Though he still carried his weapon with him, the staff tipped with a crystal point, he didn’t look nearly as threatening anymore. He seemed more like a mischievous little elf-child than a vampire, and was apparently mute. North was amused by Katherine’s fast friendship with the imp. The girl’s interest in vampires couldn’t be helped, he supposed.

Katherine placed the meal tray on North’s lap and she and Nightlight seated themselves on the window ledge near his bed.

“Thank you, kisa,” said North.

“No problem,” Katherine said. She looked down at his bandaged chest and crossed her arms, not for the first time since he’d been well enough to receive a scolding. “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me come.”

“Probably not,” North said, smiling.

“But then you wouldn’t have met Nightlight,” Ombric reminded her. “He was your gift for remaining here. You like Nightlight, don’t you?”

Katherine looked up at Nightlight, who was smirking at her as he leaned on his staff. A blush crept across her features.

“O..of course I do.”

“Then no ‘what ifs’,” Ombric said. “We will began planning for a second attack soon, once North has recovered and we see if Bunny is able to rejoin us.”

“And I will make another machine,” North said. “My first failed me, alas, but in his death throes he did allow our escape.”

Sandy smiled and attempted to recollect the tale through sign language, which none of them, even the mute Nightlight, understood. In frustration Sandy abandoned his attempts and let the others commence their conversation.

“Er, another machine?” Ombric said. “Are you certain that’s a resourceful use of time…”

North suspected he was worried about the cost of materials, and another expensive project potentially going to waste.

“Another machine! I do feel it is the best service I can provide to this endeavor. If a failure can strike such a blow as last time, imagine a success!” 

He laughed along with Katherine, and awaited a sneer and snide remark from Tooth about how he ought to quit them if the best he could do was crank out little robot toys. When her normally biting remark did not come, he looked to find her staring out the window at the opposite end of the room. He did not realize she’d been there for quite some time until he recalled she’d come into his room early in the morning to sit in the very place she sat now.

“He will find his way,” he said to her, but she did not seem to hear.

\---

By the state of his body and the exhaustion that overwhelmed him, Bunny felt his last transformation must have been the worst he’d ever experienced. He attributed this to the fact it had been so long since he’d allowed the full moon to change him, but a part of him wondered if something else might be to blame. 

He found the blood slave during the second hour of his transformation. He didn’t remember much of what happened during that time, but he’d apparently had enough sense about him to avoid killing the blood slave once he’d sniffed him out and captured him. Though badly scratched and bruised, he was alive and all of his bones were intact.

Jack was his name. Or so he said. Bunny didn’t believe much of what the boy told him, though he went along with calling him Jack. They talked a little as they trekked through the forest toward Santoff Claussen. Bunny let the boy walk aside him freely, as he was weak and hadn’t shown any desire to escape since he’d been captured. He suspected the main reason Jack was not badly injured was because he had not struggled or tried to run from Bunny even when he’d come across him in werewolf form.

“Look, I’m sorry about...stabbing you,” Jack said, at last breaching the topic well into their journey. “I… I wanted to protect him then. When I was under that spell, all that mattered to me was protecting Pitch.”

Bunny smiled and shook his head. 

“Spell, eh?” he said. “That’s what you’re going with now?”

“What else would make someone act like that?”

“Love,” said Bunny. He watched the boy’s face flush pink. “I think you loved him. I think you still do.”

“You heard him yourself,” Jack murmured. “Vampires can’t love. Especially not a human.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t love him. He’s a rather nasty fellow, though. Don’t suppose you know a whole lot about him other than whatever he told you.”

“I...he never really mentioned his past except when he told me he used to be poor as a boy.”

“Ha,” Bunny snorted. “Maybe he was. But he never made a mention of what he’s done? All the people he’s killed? All the pain he’s caused?”

“I assumed that went along with being a vampire,” Jack said wryly.

“Well, yes. But Pitch is of a different breed. There’s killing and then there’s annihilation, Jack. He’s done a lot more than poke around villages picking off a few hundred humans over the centuries. Pitch put an end to my people. Killed an entire race out of spite.”

He grimaced, bitterness welling up in his heart when he spoke his pain aloud. He’d almost turned the boy back at Pitch’s mansion. After being alone in his pain so long, refusing to bestow his curse upon another, he’d almost given in and bitten Jack to turn him into a werewolf. He would not have been alone anymore. Even now he could turn and do the deed, make this boy like him, make this boy who had probably loved Pitch into a being the vampire despised. 

“Where are we going?” Jack asked him, in an obvious attempt to shift the subject.

“A village not far from here.”

“Is that where the others are?”

“Yea, and I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“I’m sure,” Jack muttered miserably.

“I’m only halfway kidding. You’re going to be an asset knowing so much about Pitch and all.”

Jack didn’t reply.

“You’re going to tell us about him, eh?” said Bunny. “I mean, as you’re not in love with him and all.”

“I just don’t know how useful I can really be,” Jack said. “I didn’t know him for long.”

“All the same, you lived with the bloke, which is more than any of us can say. You know his habits and the interior of the mansion.”

“I guess.”

For one so insistent that he didn’t have feelings for Pitch, Jack seemed miserable that he should be a tool in his undoing. Bunny wanted to attribute this to a natural loyalty that would linger in anyone toward their keeper, but his instinct told him to believe otherwise. He did not trust for a minute that Jack no longer had romantic feelings for the vampire.

They arrived in Santoff Claussen well after midnight, although the lights in the large tree where Ombric lived were still aglow. The old man, Sandy, and Tooth rushed out to meet them when they stepped foot in the village. Tooth was at Bunny’s side immediately, cursing him and thanking the heavens for his return in one breath.

“You’ve been gone too long!” she scolded, though she blushed when he smiled at her.

“You old mother hen,” he teased, reaching out to stroke her hair and receiving a slap of the hand instead. “Ow. I’ve got bruises enough, you know…”

Sandy and Ombric were staring at his companion, both silently waiting for an explanation. Tooth at last noticed him too, and demanded to know what business he had bringing Pitch’s bloodslave into town.

“You’ll lure him here, are you mad?” she spat. 

“He can come if wants,” said Ombric. “We’ll be better prepared to face Pitch on our own grounds. But Bunny, I sense drawing Pitch here wasn’t your intent in bringing this boy with you.”

“No,” said Bunny. “I found Jack when… well, when I wasn’t myself. And we’ve talked a bit and he’s of the opinion his love for Pitch was a construct of the vampire’s powers.”

“Not unheard of,” Ombric confirmed.

“But you’re not of the opinion that’s the case, are you Bunny?” Tooth said, eying Jack with contempt.

“Not really. I might have been mistaken about Pitch’s propensity for love, but I think this little bugger’s downright infatuated with Pitch. Through no means of spellwork, either.”

Jack did not confirm or deny the accusation.

“Let’s go put him away somewhere he won’t cause trouble,” Bunny said, earning a nod of agreement from Sandy. He took the boy by the arm again after a long while of letting him walk free. This time Jack was tense when he grabbed him, and Bunny grasped tighter lest he get any ideas about running off.

“Wait,” he said. “You said I could be useful to you if I provided information about Pitch.”

“I did say that I guess.”

“Then let me prove that I’m not your enemy. Let me help you.”

“I see no reason you can’t give us that information from a cozy little room with a ward,” snorted Bunny. “We won’t starve you, and it’ll be warm enough. Probably beats whatever coffin that bloodsucker had you locked up in.”

He felt Jack slump in his grasp as he’d done back at the mansion when Pitch gave the order to kill him. It was a sad thing to feel the will leave a body, but it did make it easier to drag him along.

The five had almost made it back to the central tree when their path was intercepted by the form of Katherine, who’d teetered out into the night in her pajamas.

“Is Bunny back?” she asked sleepily, and upon seeing him she grinned and rushed toward him. Her embrace broke Bunny’s connection with Jack, but the boy did not run. “Oh, we were all so worried about you. Are you all right?”

“All right enough,” he assured her. In truth the transformation had taken quite a toll on him physically and mentally, but this was not a matter to mention to a child. “Go back to bed, Katherine. We’ll have plenty to discuss in the morning.”

“But I have a lot to ask you. North said Pitch almost killed you, and…”

At that moment, Katherine noticed the strange boy at his side.

“...and he said there was a boy that stabbed you. That--”

“In the morning,” Bunny assured her. “Go back to sleep.”

In the morning Katherine had far more questions than Bunny could handle. Between her incessant chattering and the hunters’ failed attempts to draw any information from their hostage, he at last concluded he ought to combine his problems and deal with them in one go.

“Katherine,” he said, wanting nothing more than to return to sleep. “I have a job for you. A very important job.”

“Oh? A vampire hunter job?” she said excitedly.

“Exactly. Since you’re so very good at talking and asking questions, I want you to talk to Jack and find out everything he knows about Pitch. Can you do that?”

Katherine looked like her birthday had come early.

\---

Someone was near.

Pitch sensed them when he was in his gardens, sulking over the gravestones of his dead lovers. He rose to his feet and dashed from the graves in an instant, hoping to meet the intruder before they could hide away. He couldn’t sense whom it might be. His lips curled into a snarl thinking it might be the vampire hunters, returned so soon after their vicious blow. He reminded himself, however, it might also be Jack. Though he’d abandoned hopes of ever seeing the boy again, the thought of his return filled him with undeniable joy.

Whom he found was neither Jack nor the hunters. 

It did not register that he looked upon a familiar face at first glance. He’d not seen the features of his guest in centuries, and in the time they’d known one another there’d been no time to impress her memory upon a canvas. In his shock he made to attack her, but she evaded him easily -- of course she did, because she was like him. He’d made her such a wretch, after all.

“Why do you attack me?” she said to him. She was prepared to evade another attack, but by this time Pitch had fallen to his knees, near the point of overwhelmed.

“Sera,” came his choked voice. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’ve come to speak with you.”

Why now, after so many long years? His daughter had sworn to hate him forever after when he turned her in her human youth. For hundreds of years she’d managed to avoid him in a world where their kind were so few they could not help but stumble into one another’s paths. He’d sought her out early on, of course, thinking she would be easy to locate as his own blood and fledgling, but a vampire that wishes to remain hidden finds the means to do so. Even as helpless as she was in her newly turned state, she’d hated him strongly enough to stay out of his vision. 

And now, she stood before him in the body of the young woman he’d turned so long ago. Her presence might have soothed him in another time, but now it was only an added anguish. After losing Jack, his own daughter had come before him to remind him of his failures with those he loved. Perhaps she even knew of Jack, and his desires to turn the boy, and would recount her miseries as a vampire until Pitch felt even more evil for wanting to create another like him.

“Pitch,” she said (he had not expected her to call him ‘Father’, but the name stung nonetheless). “Do not mistake my presence as a sign I’ve forgiven you for cursing me for all eternity - for I have not. I do not, however, come as your enemy. For some time now, we’ve both lived in these woods, and I’ve witnessed your actions. Likewise, I witnessed the attacks a few nights ago. I believe you, as well as humankind, are at a far greater risk that you’re aware.”

“What do you mean?” said Pitch.

His daughter regarded him balefully.

“Let me inside your home,” said Sera. “And I will tell you what I know.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to alert me to any errors.

Despite his earlier resolution that his daughter’s presence would bring nothing but further misery, Pitch could not help but feel a small swell of happiness when she sat down with him at the dining table. Though it seemed long ago and inconsequential after centuries of separate lives, it reminded him of the times he dined with her as a young girl. She’d not known of his hideous affliction then, and loved him as dearly as any girl loved her father. He’d spoiled her to quell sorrowful thoughts of the mother she’d never known, his beloved mortal wife that had died in childbirth. He remembered Sera’s smiles over supper and how readily she’d climbed beside of him in bed to sleep during the day in her youth.

As the years went on, she’d come to question why they slept in the day instead of going about their lives in the daylight. Though Pitch kept her sheltered from society and she did not know their habits were strange, it was the natural urge of humans to seek the light, and every drop of his sweet daughter’s blood was human. He managed to quash her curiosity time and time again, and never let her see him feed when she was young. Perhaps, now that he reflected on it, he should have slowly acclimated her to the ways of vampires so she would not loath her new state when he turned her. It was too late for such ruminations now, though. He’d turned her in desperation, hoping to preserve a companion and the memory of her mother forever, and it had wrought nothing but unhappiness for the both of them. Upon realizing her bloodlust when she awoke from the change, his daughter was beside herself with rage. He’d only seen her in vampiric form for a short time before she left him.

In the glow of the candlelight, and finely outlined by the unnatural keenness of his eye, he could see that she was just as lovely as he remembered. Her skin was the white of lilies and her hair as dark as night, and her eyes were the same amber as his own. She was a perpetual 21, no grey hairs or wrinkles to betray her age, but Pitch could sense a weariness few girls so beautiful and young would possess had they been mortal.

“I’ve missed you, Sera,” he said to her in all earnest.

“I’ve not come to speak with you about personal matters,” she replied coldly. “Will you continue to harass me until I leave?”

“No,” Pitch said hastily, not wanting his daughter to leave again. Even if she only spoke to him in curt, cold words it was more than he’d received from her in years and he cherished all that he could get.

“Good. Then I’ll tell you why I’ve come to you after so long an absence. I suppose to soothe your mind I’ll start from the beginning, after you bestowed this curse upon me. I at first endeavored to kill myself by laying out in the morning sun, but found I could not bear the slow, painful death. I tried other ways, stabbing myself or even diving into the depths of the river, but each time I failed. I hungered for blood but refused to feed on humans, so I kept my strength by feeding on rats or whatever sickly animal I could find upon the streets of Paris. Some time passed like this, and I had to be clever to avoid you at every turn during the nights, for I know you sought me. I knew that to escape you I had to leave.

I came to this land long before it was occupied by the Europeans. A dark skinned people lived here, and I tried to stay out of their sight to the best of my ability. Inevitably, a few saw me. They interpreted me as a spirit because of my pallor. I expected to be attacked, but when I was at last confronted by the people they tried to communicate with me. I could not speak their language nor they mine, but we found means of understanding one another. They offered me plants I could not stomach in an attempt to nourish me, but eventually realized I only craved meat. At times I even wanted to slay my protectors, but I quelled my bloodlust and let them teach me to hunt large game instead. It is in this way I have survived for many centuries since.”

“You’ve never fed from a human?” Pitch interrupted, amazed.

“Never,” she said. “I live among the forests and kill the aging buck and sickly bear to sate my bloodlust. The hunger for human blood has never left me, but I am strong enough to resist. In any case, I remained here among the native people until the Europeans came. They brought with them sickness that decimated the protectors that had accepted me among them across generations. With them also came the superstition of our people. I was unsafe again, and had to travel frequently to keep my presence unknown. It was in these travels I came upon the mansion you reside in. I sensed your barriers, but suspect as they utilized your blood in their creation, their effects were weakened on a relative. I found I could come within them and apparently did not alert you to my presence.

I’ve watched you for quite some time. I’ve seen you kill. I’ve watched you stalk through the woods in search of prey. And more recently, I’ve seen you take a young mortal into your company.”

“He’s gone,” Pitch said bitterly.

“I’m aware,” Sera said. “I told you, I know of the attack. I will address it momentarily, but first, I would like to give credit to the young mortal. It is only because of the interactions I’ve seen between the two of you that I even cared to speak with you. In watching your interactions, I believed I saw a trace of humanity and kindness within you. Don’t look so sheepish -- I did not watch you make love, though I know you shared that with him, as you've shared with many lovers over the centuries. I heard you speak to him in the gardens, and saw the anguish in your eyes when you thought him lost to you. Until I saw such proof that you were not entirely without good, I was convinced I should leave you to fate. But I think you might be an ally in this fight after all.”

“Manny is behind this recent attack,” she told him. “His order is crumbling, and many vampires question the mandates he has in place to protect humanity. There’s been much pressure to lift the bans on murder at will, and he at last caved. His only concern is you.”

“Me?” said Pitch. “Why me? I’ve not bothered him or that foolish order in years. I want nothing to do with their politics!”

“Be that as it may, he still sees you as a threat. He’s gone out of his way to convince mortals and vampires alike you are the greatest bane upon earth. I think it is perhaps your love of mortals that concerns him most. Though your past is littered with violence and indifference toward humans, he knows you have the unusual habit of falling in love with mortals you take as blood slaves. I think he fears you will use your strength against him if he lets his vampires lose on the world of mortals, a species of whom you’ve grown sympathetic. You alone could annihilate a great number of his army.”

“Manny has grown paranoid,” Pitch muttered. “My great love of mortals? My infallible strength? He is a fool if he believes I possess either.”

“Fool he may be, but he’s out to kill you. And soon humankind will be at the mercy of his vampires. He will not be able to control them any longer once he gives them free reign to feed. This will be the very thing he was worried would happen from the start.”

“Yes, when he told me to restrain my feeding. Hah, now he’s gone and created an entire legion of vampires that hunger more strongly than ever before, and they’ll go mad the moment they’re freed. Brilliant.”

“I ask that you aid me so we might prevent this,” Sera said. “I have a friend within Manny’s ranks, one whom I believe you know well. Nightlight, his advisor, also sees that this shall lead to chaos if it comes to pass. He is skeptical, however, of trusting you, given your past.”

“And I, somehow, do not entirely trust one who has endeavored to kill me.”

“Listen to me. Nightlight is likely to support us if we confront Manny. I too have no interest in the politics of vampires, but I have an interest in the lives of humankind. I will not let him kill you if it puts him one step closer to unleashing these starved fiends upon the world. There is a better way, and it begins with a new leader. I believe Nightlight to be well suited to the role, as he is trusted among vampires and strong enough to fight opposers. But I want you to fight aside him. If you have any love of humankind and of me, you will do this.”

“And what of those hunters of his?” Pitch asked. “The ones who attacked me?”

“His pawns? He plans to dispose of them soon enough, if they fail once more to fulfill their bargain to kill you.”

“Well I’ve at last received some good news.”

Sera frowned.

“I know you are angry with them, but the hunters are under a wrongful impression of you. I believe they could be helpful to us if we negotiated.”

“There is no negotiating. Especially with the werewolf among them. I am the admitted murderer of his kin. He will join Manny and the vampires if only to spite me. I have no love of his kind in any case, filthy--”

“Pitch,” Sera scolded. “Your prejudices must cease. We will ask the werewolf and the others to join us.”

“No,” Pitch spat. “I will meet all of your other requests, daughter. I will aid Nightlight if I feel he is trustworthy. I will even spare the hunters, those great irritations. But you will never make me bend so low as to work with a werewolf.”

“All of your years upon Earth, seeing mortals kill one another because of the color of their skin or the nature of their creed, and you think it’s noble to hate another?” Sera snarled at him, more venomously than she’d yet expressed herself. “ Vampires disgust me, the lot of them. And you cast me as one of these infernal creatures for all eternity! Such advanced creatures we are, discarding all humanness except the basest qualities! Jealousy! Lust! Prejudice!”

“You said you knew of what happened,” Pitch said loudly, interrupting her rant. “Surely then, you must know that werewolf tried to infect my lover, Jack, during the attack. You think me weak, daughter, but I was so strong with Jack! I longed to turn him as I turned you so I should not have to watch another die! Each night we lay together and I drank from him I felt my ribs would collapse from the restraint I forced myself to show. His soul drew me to him as I have not been drawn to a soul in centuries. I loved your mother as I love Jack, and like her, like all mortals I’ve dared loved too deeply, he rejected my offer of immortality. You alone suffered for my loneliness, Sera, and for that I am sorry! It is because of the pain I caused you in forcing this curse upon you I could not turn him, no matter how I selfishly wanted his company beyond the life a mortal burns so quickly to the end of its wick.”

“I’d accepted I’d never have Jack aside me as a vampire. Then these strangers invade my home, and among them is a creature I only dare compare to our kind in that he has the ability to transform mortals. The werewolf took Jack in his grasp and threatened to slit his throat with a blade, and I mistakenly tried to deny I cared. I felt panic overwhelm me, and all I could do to keep hold of my senses was to convince myself I did not love Jack so painfully deep. It was wrong of me, and cruel, because it was this action that drove Jack away from me later that night. But God, Sera! This beast lets the knife fall from Jack’s throat, and I think I might release my breath, but no! I see him bend forward, his filthy fangs bared, to penetrate the flesh of my lover’s neck!

How dare he infect Jack so carelessly, when I’d done everything in my power to resist turning Jack into one of my own! I leapt at him and remember little but the noise of his strained breathing as my hand closed around his throat. I could not see, for my vision was black, but it is a wonder I did not kill him. There was a weapon… an arrow…”

Pitch began to mutter to himself as he tried to recall the latter parts of the attack, after his rage had literally blinded him to his surroundings.

Sera was somewhat taken aback by the rage behind her father’s recollection. Though it did not condone his prejudice toward the werewolf, the fact the werewolf had attempted to infect his lover did offer an explanation for his bitterness.

“Pitch,” she said. “For the time being, we will drop the matter of working with the werewolf. I ask that you not actively seek to kill him, however. His attempt to infect Jack was one born of desperation, and one I doubt he will reattempt. Now are you calmed enough for us to discuss our next moves?”

Pitch had lost himself in his muttering, his brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to make sense of his patchy memories. It took a second prompting from Sera to get his attention.

“What are we doing then?” he said wearily, his mind weighed down by thoughts of his lost love.

“I am afraid I do not have much of a plan,” said Sera. “Though I knew Manny to be plotting through my correspondence with Nightlight, it was through sheer chance of my knowing your abode that I learned of the attack. I had no idea he would act so early. I need to face Manny on his shores. He knows little of me except that I share no great love of you, and that I am the rare breed of female vampire he likes to look upon. Perhaps I can delay any further madness until we are certain Nightlight supports overthrowing him.”

“Why not send me abroad and let me end him?” Pitch said. “You said yourself I am more powerful than the majority of his underlings.”

“Do you listen at all? Eliminating Manny is only the first step toward securing a future for humankind. We must be certain a capable leader is immediately ready to assume his position and bring order to the vampires before they can run amuck. You are not that leader, nor am I am, as we have no knowledge or want to learn the politics that keep this noxious society from unraveling. Most suited is Nightlight, who has been at Manny’s side from the start.”

“All right,” Pitch sighed. “Leave me yet again. I suppose I am to do nothing but hide away in the meantime?”

“That is exactly what I want you to do,” said Sera. “I will retrieve you once I am positive Nightlight will join us. Then we shall sail home, and face Manny on his grounds.”

“I have neglected to ask you how this benefits me.”

“It benefits all of those damned to be vampires. Nightlight’s rule will assure vampires do not deplete the human population to extinction, but will free them of the rules that drive them to indiscriminate bloodlust. You will no longer have Manny chasing you from home to home, nor the threat of his murder attempts to haunt you during the day. The human race will be spared an early and horrific demise. Is that not enough?”

“Yet will it return Jack to me?” Pitch asked softly. “Will this mend the ravine my cruelty and denial have created?”

He did not expect an answer, nor did his daughter give him one.

\---

Katherine was most intrigued by the latest newcomer to Santoff Claussen.

Jack was a thin, pale boy with dark hair and dark eyes that made her blush whenever he cast his weak smiles her way. North teased her when he caught her stealing glances at him, which she fervently insisted had nothing to do with her supposedly attraction to him. While he was quite attractive and near enough her age where romantic feelings might have naturally blossomed, her fascination with Jack lay in his relationship to Pitch. For so long Pitch had been the source of her studies and dreams, and while the others might offer recollections of him from their fight, Jack was the only one who truly had an established relationship the vampire. She sought him out whenever she could so they might discuss Pitch.

The vampire hunters and Ombric encouraged their chats, as they seemed to draw out more information from Jack than they could get through their own ruthless interrogation. Her approach was one of pure curiosity and did not pressure Jack, and in conversation he revealed more about their enemy that he did when subjected to harsh tones and accusations from the others, though it was still trivial information he provided at best. He was a sweet and mild friend whom Katherine loved speaking to, even when their conversation drifted from Pitch and vampires to more mundane topics. Only one opposed her budding friendship with the boy, and that was Nightlight.

Prior to Jack’s arrival, Nightlight had absorbed her curiosity and they’d quickly became friends. Nightlight was a vampire, though not cruel or fearful like Pitch. Though North and the others shied from him, he treated her kindly. He did not speak, preferring instead to listen, but she quickly found he expressed himself through other means that were just as useful as speech. If he needed to say something that could not be fully communicated through gestures and expressions, he would take a quill and write out his thoughts for Katherine. In a few weeks’ time, he increased her knowledge of the history of vampires exponentially through only a few written pages. He seemed content she repaid him with her company.

Nightlight was unhappy she now spent more time with Jack. Katherine realized, of course, she was being rather rude abandoning her new friend because a more novel thing came along, but she could not help but be attracted to Jack. He had dealt with Pitch more recently and was far more conversational than her mute companion. She did not think, however, Nightlight was as severely upset with the change as he was until he confronted her way on the way to visit Jack in the library. 

Nightlight was leaned against the wall as Katherine approached the library doors, and when she said hello he moved before her and crossed his arms.

“Nightlight? Are you all right?”

“No,” he replied, and the spoken word startled her. 

“You can speak? I thought you mute.”

“I usually have no need to speak. I thought you, my dear Katherine, were wise enough to converse with me without the need for words.”

Katherine stared at him, still in disbelief. His voice was like that of a young boy. Though he looked young, she knew him to be very old and expected some part of him - perhaps his elusive voice - to reflect that.

“However,” Nightlight continued. “I see I was wrong. It seems you are as base as all mortals, and require words to entice your attention.”

“Now see here,” Katherine huffed, feeling annoyed with such an accusation. “I don’t know why you’re acting like this all of a sudden. I haven’t asked you to speak at all.”

“Yes, but you seem to prefer the company of those who do.”

It struck her that the vampire was jealous. She most of all should have known vampires were capable of those sort of emotions. Perhaps she really had neglected Nightlight if she hadn’t caught onto the fact until now.

“Is this about me spending time with Jack?” she asked, and the name was immediately met with a roll of Nightlight’s eyes.

“I simply don’t understand why you’re going to a bloodslave for advice about vampires when you have a real vampire here before you in the flesh.” He tapped his chest with the tip of his staff.

“It’s just that we’re trying to find out more about Pitch,” said Katherine. “Manny wants us to defeat him, and we’re trying to find out all we can about him from Jack.”

“But that is not all you talk about. Sometimes I overhear you laughing with him.”

Nightlight looked thoroughly offended, and his expression made Katherine giggle.

“And what is funny?”

“I’m sorry I’ve neglected you, Nightlight. I didn’t know you missed my company this much.”

Nightlight pouted a little and assumed an akimbo stance.

“It isn’t that! I was told by Manny I was to entertain you, and I am only assuring I meet my end of the bargain.”

“Oh, well if I assure you I’m entertained, would you let me through to see Jack?”

Nightlight looked even more indignant and didn’t reply right away.

“I see no reason I can’t join the two of you,” he said. “I’ll be silent and listen. Perhaps he’s been lying to you all along. There’s suspicion he’s still on Pitch’s side, you know.”

“Oh, I’ve heard that talk from the others. They think he’s lying all because they frighten him with their accusations and he refuses to meet their eyes. And apparently he stabbed Bunny, so they haven’t been on the best of terms since they met.”

“Well, I have no bias against the bloodslave,” said Nightlight, who very obviously did. “But I think he might be lying as well. Let me at least listen to him. I’ll linger in the back while you talk, and afterward I’ll tell you my thoughts, all right?”

“Fair enough,” said Katherine. She shrugged and led the way into the library, where Jack awaited her. He was bent over a book when they entered, his mouth moving silently as he seemingly read to himself. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and he did not notice them until they were right upon him. He was on the precipice of a smile when he noticed Nightlight perched over Katherine’s shoulder. The vampire had a rather nasty look directed his way, but eventually he turned and left Katherine alone with Jack.

“He’s just browsing the library tonight,” Katherine assured Jack, who could not stop staring at Nightlight.

“I just find it strange you all are so adamant about killing Pitch and yet you allow him to hang around,” murmured Jack.

“Oh, well Nightlight’s not the same sort of vampire as Pitch. He’s with Manny.”

“I know, you’ve told me before. But who is to say this Manny isn’t a bad man too?”

“Manny’s always opposed Pitch, though,” said Katherine. “And we’ve always been under his protection.”

“Yes but… I’m not saying Pitch isn’t bad. He is. But just because he’s at odds with Pitch doesn’t mean he’s not against you as well. What price do you pay for protection?”

Katherine saw Nightlight eying them. Surely Jack was aware the vampire could hear their every word?

“I don’t know of any price. We exchange knowledge, and recently we’ve helped Manny locate Pitch and coordinated the attack against him. Other than that, nothing.”

Jack seemed to absorb this knowledge and contemplate its meaning. Katherine had never doubted Manny’s goodness, as he’d worked extensively with Ombric throughout her life. Nightlight, who was Manny’s closest companion, didn’t seem bad either. She wondered if perhaps there was some merit to Nightlight’s belief that Jack wasn’t as innocent as he seemed if he were trying to turn her against the good guys, but she liked him and wanted to be his friend.

“In any case,” Jack said, thankfully redirecting the conversation. “What is it you wanted to talk about tonight?”

“Well,” said Katherine. “It’s just that we need to know more about Pitch, Jack. You’ve been here nearly two weeks and the others don’t really feel you’ve given us any helpful information…”

“I told them to begin with I wasn’t with him very long,” Jack sighed. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I’ve tried to answer all of their questions, but how can they expect me to remember the architecture of the home I lived in but for a short while?”

“I want to believe you, Jack, I really do. I like you a lot and I think we could be really good friends. But I don’t know how much longer I can convince them you’re not our enemy.”

She paused, chewing on her lip.

“You know,” she said. “You told us you couldn’t read. But I saw you sounding out the words in that book in front of you when I came in.”

Jack flushed, caught in his guilt.

“I don’t read well,” he stammered. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself by saying I could read and then have a book put before me that I couldn’t understand. I didn’t mean to lie.”

Nightlight made a soft noise of disapproval and Katherine looked over to see him roll his eyes.

“Jack,” Katherine said. “I’m not going to tell the others if you still have feelings for Pitch. I read a book that said he once had a mortal woman for a wife, and a daughter even. I don’t think it’s strange you might love him.”

“A wife?” Jack said, honestly puzzled. “He told me of his many male lovers, but I never knew he married and had a child…”

“Well, it’s legend,” Katherine admitted. “But you say he had other lovers! So it isn’t strange if you love him, even if he is a terrible creature… you can tell me.”

Jack shook his head, resolute.

“I believed I loved him,” he said. “But now that I’m out of his grasp I can see that he had me bewitched. I want nothing more than to see him destroyed for the misery he put me through, and for the cruelty I now know he inflicted. Please believe me, Katherine, I don’t want to hurt you or anyone. I still feel sick for what I did to Bunny under Pitch’s spell. I just want to help, but it seems nothing I know is worth anything. I am not deliberately withholding information.” 

“Jack, if anyone believes you it is me, I promise. Just please try to remember something. Anything you haven’t told us.”

Jack sighed and rested his face in his palms, thinking for a long while. When he lifted his face, he took a deep breath and offered what his mind had recalled.

“How is this,” he said. “I may not be able to draw out a map of the home, but I do believe that once I was within I would remember my way around with ease. Arm me with the weapons to kill Pitch and I will do the deed myself. I doubt his barriers affect me, so I can simply walk onto the grounds without need of an aid. I don’t think Pitch will be actively hostile toward me when I enter. I can convince him I’m still enthralled and beg for him to let me return, and if he accepts, I will plunge the weapon into his heart. True, I’m not as strong as the others, but I have the element of surprise on my side. He won’t suspect one who never fought against him when he was captive. Even if I fail, you have lost none of your own people. This is all I can offer, Katherine. Is it enough?”

He looked upon her so sadly she felt herself guilty of some terrible crime.

“I don’t want you to go alone, Jack…”

“It’s the only way. He knows the others as enemies, and if they try to enter his grounds again he’ll kill them without hesitation. I am not afraid of dying if it is fated to be my time. I am obviously not welcome here unless I prove that I’ve rejected Pitch. Since I cannot give you any useful advice, this is the only way I know how to prove myself.”

“I guess I’ll see what the others think,” Katherine said. “They probably still won’t trust you, Jack. They’ll think you want to go return to Pitch.”

“And if that was the truth of it, what could I tell him of you all, whom I’ve known an even shorter time? I’ve been confined to my room and allowed into the library only for short periods. Most of the books I cannot comprehend.”

Katherine started when Jack reached out and clasped his hands over hers. She heard a few books clatter to the floor as Nightlight caught sight of the touch. It was only her stern look that prevented the vampire from storming over and ripping Jack away from her.

“Katherine,” said Jack softly, wringing her hands. “You alone have been kind to me since I came here. I hate that I am considered evil when I am a merely a victim. I did not go to Pitch of my own choice. My sister and mother had fallen ill, and he offered to heal them if I would remain with him as a bloodslave. I doubt I may ever return to them, but you remind me so much of Emma, my sister. I want to be your friend, and I want the others to accept me. I know they are only unkind because they think I am accomplice to Pitch. If you can convince them of my innocence and let me prove myself, I would be forever in your debt. I only want to be free…”

“Jack, I will try my best,” Katherine said. “I cannot promise anything, but the more you speak, the more I think you are telling the truth.”

“Thank you, Katherine.”

He smiled at her and brought her hand to his lips to place a chaste kiss against her knuckles. Despite the innocence of the gesture, she heard the noise of books being shelved rather violently behind her. Apparently Jack was aware of Nightlight’s increasing annoyance too, for he dropped her hand and looked toward the exit.

“I need to rest. I’ll head straight to my room,” he said.

“Of course. I’ll bring your lunch this evening.”

Jack was still in the habits of one who slept the company of a vampire, and could not stomach meals in the early morning or afternoon, so he napped at odd hours and took food late. She said goodbye to him and waited for the door to the library to close before looking for Nightlight. He was already at her side, having flitted over from across the room in but a heartbeat.

“I do think he’s telling the truth,” she said to her companion, who merely crossed his arms and grimaced. It seemed he was back in the habit of silence.

Nightlight pointed to the book Jack had been reading prior to their entrance, as if this was all the proof he needed that Jack was a liar. True, it was rather disappointing he’d admitted to lying about his ability to read. It would not help his case any when the others learned of the fib… if Katherine should tell them. After all, how important could such a small fact be?

The book was folded near its end, and she flipped it shut to reveal its cover.

“The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus,” she said aloud. “Hmm. A rather morbid choice, don’t you think?”

“Morbid,” said Nightlight, that childlike but ancient voice coming forth once more. “But not surprising. I recall it being one of Pitch’s favorite plays.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, I've stolen a plot device from the source material. It was a nice one. I couldn't resist it, given GoC Pitch's intolerance of sunlight, and the clever way he conquered it. Very fitting for a vampire tale.
> 
> If you're reading this, I applaud you for coming this far. As always, feel free to point out errors.

Lovely Sera vanished from Pitch’s life as soon as she had come into it again, and he was left alone with his misery. His mood was as unsteady as a pendulum after her departure, and that night he alternated between hating his daughter for her coldness and wishing death upon himself for being the root of her suffering. Between the swings, there was but one constant - his desire for Jack. No matter what troubled him, be it thoughts of Sera or vicious contempt toward Manny, nothing seemed more horrible than his recent loss. He allowed himself to sob, a pathetic and awkward gesture after he’d gone unpracticed for so long, but even that did not purge Jack from his mind.

It was true he’d not known the boy for long at all, but he felt he never had the chance to truly know his mortal lovers before they slipped between his fingers, dust to feed the sands of time. He knew that he loved Jack, and that convincing himself and Jack of otherwise was one of his greatest mistakes, second only to forcing the curse of vampirism upon his unwilling daughter. How he wanted to hold the boy again, and tell him the truth! He wanted to take Jack upon all the fantastical journeys to faraway lands he’d promised him, and keep him warm and happy until he met the mortal end he’d chosen. 

Where was his lover now! Had he returned to his mother and sister? They no longer lived in poverty, as Pitch had given them sufficient funds to survive, but within that home Jack would never experience the grandiose life Pitch could afford him. What if Jack had been unable to find his way there even, and he wandered the woods cold and mad with hunger and thirst? Enough time had passed since he’d fled that he might have perished without food. Pitch nearly retched when he considered a third possibility he’d thus suppressed to maintain his sanity. He tried to push it away, but it was no use, and now he could only imagine that Jack had fallen victim to the werewolf.

He knew himself sick to wish death upon Jack once again, but he’d rather his lover perish than he ever become that creature’s charge. The thought of Jack transformed into a werewolf obsessed him, and he fell into a sudden fit, tearing things from the walls and drawers to shatter them upon the floor. His throat became raw as he screamed, his cry at first that of a desperate ‘no!’, but soon diluted to incoherences. It was in this fit he revisited the destroyed golem at the foot of his stairs. It was sure to meet the paramount of his rage, for he recalled it was the fault of the golem’s arrow his attackers had escaped. Just as he meant to lay a blow against its metal body, he was suddenly struck with an idea that stayed his fist. 

The golem, though it could not be used for its original intent as a weapon, was made a of a sturdy metal that might provide him armor. Pitch had little to fear of man’s weapons -- a stake through the heart would fell him as it would any vampire (or mortal, for that matter), but he was not singed by holy symbols nor did silver pose a particular threat. Pitch’s greatest weakness remained the sun. The heavy, thick metal of the golem might be enough to protect him from the sun’s rays and allow him to travel by daylight.

He would not burst into ashes if revealed to sunlight, as some tended to believe. In fact, a few seconds exposure would do little more than produce a redness upon his skin that he was as likely to have obtained from placing his hand on a hot cauldron. Beyond a few short seconds in the sun, however, true pain would devour a vampire. Pitch had the misfortune of experiencing several long exposures in his youth. The sensation of flesh boiling from his bones set in after only thirty seconds within the sunlight. His nostrils filled with the heavy smell of rotten meat decaying. He remembered being puzzled by that most of all, for the smell reminded him of warfields upon which poor men died, or ancient fires that blazed high and terrifying, fueled by the anonymous bodies of criminals. It was a mortal smell, the smell of death, and it was emanating from his own flesh. He recalled the horror he’d felt seeing his ivory flesh gnarl and bubble before his eyes, and how his strength had left him even when fear urged him to survive.

Pitch had never met God nor devil, but he could not offer a natural explanation for how he’d survived his first exposure. It was hazy as to how he’d come into the sun in the first place, but he was young then and it was likely the result of his own arrogance. For one full minute Pitch endured the sunlight before he found the shade of a tree. The tree’s leaves danced and occasionally exposed his supine form to flickers of the light, which in themselves were not painful, but upon that day dripped onto his burned body like beads of lemon juice. He was immensely pained and could not hope to move until sunset, which came only after an eternity of suffering. He limped his way back to his hideaway then, and wondered if he might be better destroyed if his survival came at the price of his flesh marred and horribly twisted. 

It took some time, but the wounds eventually healed and Pitch resolved never to test the sunlight again. Of course, across the next few centuries he was to again endure exposure several times. Sometimes it was the fault of his own recklessness, and other times a zealous throng of mortals discovered his curse and dragged him into the light before scurrying from his smoking body in terror. He could recall each time in sharp detail, and the memories quelled his interest in the golem for a short time. If the armor failed to protect him and his luck had run out, he was not certain he was prepared to face such an agonizing death. In any case, he should remain until Sera returned with news of Manny and Nightlight.

Pitch’s sense reigned only a short while before paranoia crept into his mind again. He tried once more to quiet the thoughts of Jack transformed into a werewolf, but more and more perverse images crossed his imaginings. He groaned aloud when he realized the werewolf might have not only taken Jack’s immortality from him, but that he might have also taken Jack as a mate and been the first to enter his body. It was the vision of a wolfman penetrating his beautiful lover in human form that caused Pitch to at last tear at the golem, gathering pieces from which he might construct a suit to protect him from the sun.

\---

Bunny was still exhausted weeks after returning to the village. Katherine, who’d initially been curious about his transformation, had understood he wasn’t well enough to talk about it and had ceased her pestering. Tooth, unfortunately, had been harder to shake. He regretted yelling at her to leave him be, as he knew she only wanted to help, but he could not stand the sight of her pitying expression any longer when he at last snapped. He was within his room preparing an explanation for her when there came a knock at the door. He called for the visitor to enter without hesitation, thinking it was Tooth.

He was surprised to turn and see Ombric within his room. With him, the old man carried a bag which Bunny recognized as the one containing Ombric’s supposed ‘cures’ for lycanthropy. 

“I haven’t seen that bag in a while,” Bunny said. He attempted to chuckle but could not manage. 

“Ah, well,” said Ombric, making his way to the edge of Bunny’s bed. “I’ve brought with me an improved strain. I think this one might truly work--”

Bunny watched the old man pull out his vials of medicine and the sinister needles he’d use to administer the drug. Upon first coming to the village, Ombric was adamant about pinpointing the cure for Bunny’s affliction, but after several unsuccessful attempts he’d returned to the laboratory with his chemicals and herbs. Some time had passed between the initial trials and then.

“You know,” Bunny said, starling himself with the sudden feeling of irritation that had overcome him. “This Jack kid… you dealt any with him?”

“Oh, not really. I know Katherine finds him amusing. That girl would befriend a devil…”

“Hm. Might be within your interest to speak with him. He’s apparently been talking all kind of crazy about you and Manny.”

“Oh really,” Ombric chuckled. “What has he said I myself would not endorse?”

“Nothing too specific. I think he’s bluffing, trying to get us to flip our loyalties. Of course, I’m not stupid enough to take advice from a kid that stabbed me to protect his sadistic vampire lover.”

“Ha! I would worry if you did take him seriously,” Ombric said. He popped a needle in a vial of medicine and absorbed the liquid, withdrawing it and squirting a bit out the end to free any lingering air. “Now we’ll just inject this same as always--”

“However,” Bunny said, shifting out of the needle’s range. “He got me thinking.”

Ombric let the needle drop to his side.

“About what, might I ask?”

“About the fact we don’t really know anything about you or this Manny guy. The whole lot of us thought it was shifty when a vampire wanted our help killing another vampire, but we agreed to it because the guy was a fast talker and made it sound like a real good deal. But stuff’s not adding up anymore, old man. If anyone wants to see Pitch dead it’s me, all right? He killed my entire family in front of my eyes and regards me as worthless scum. But even I can admit he’s not caused a real problem in centuries, and if this kid’s to be believed he never hunted while he kept a blood slave.”

“Is it not enough to want Pitch destroyed to assure he doesn’t relapse into cruelty and murder again?” Ombric said. “Must there be an imminent threat to address an issue which has plagued us for years?”

“I never said there had to be, but it makes sense you’d want him gone before something happens. Perhaps there’s something on Manny’s end waiting to be unveiled after we’ve destroyed Pitch.”

Ombric regarded him with a somber silence.

“We’ve been given no reason to destroy him other than the fact he’s a nuisance. I might have accepted that before this kid started spouting off his little theories. Like I said, I think they’ve got no root in truth. But the more I thought about, the more I don’t like how we’re kept in the dark. I don’t want to learn too late that we destroyed what we thought to be a threat, only to face a bigger threat against which we’ve deprived ourselves of protection.”

“You do realize,” Ombric said. “That you are essentially mercenaries who agreed upon a contract. Mercenaries do not require logic and answers. You will be given your promised rewards upon the contract’s successful completion, and that is all you need to concern yourself with.”

“Is it?” Bunny snorted. “I doubt at times we’re meant to complete this contract. Pitch nearly killed all of us without lifting a finger. Now you’ve barred North from building another robot, which was the sole reason we survived last time. We are not allowed to do anything within this village but visit the library, a luxury, I might add, you provide our hostage. And you have the audacity to prod me with your needles and claim you want to cure me of this damnable state!”

Bunny stood, towering over the old man. His bare chest, marked with scars of his own doing, glistened with a thin sheen of cold sweat. He must have appeared fearsome, but Ombric did not cow.

“I want you to tell me what you’ve been doing to me, old man,” Bunny snarled, jabbing a finger toward the needle. “You’re not the quack you want me to believe you are. You know exactly what you’re doing and it isn’t trying to cure me!”

Bunny’s question went unanswered, for at the moment they were interrupted by the door to Bunny’s bedroom door swinging open. North, yet recovering from his injuries, was panting as he struggled to get out his words.

“Pitch is here,” he managed. 

“What?” Ombric exclaimed. “It’s the middle of day! How is he here? Has someone brought his ashes to us in an urn?”

“Armor,” panted North. “We can’t make out a face, but I know it’s him. The armor is made from scraps of the machine I created.”

Ombric cursed and rushed out of the bedroom, the others at his heels. Still aching, Bunny felt the only thing that drove him forward was his want to know the truth from Ombric. He refused to die until that was given to him.

“Tooth, Sandy,” North called down the hallway as they rushed to gather their weapons. The two hunters were passing their time with a card game, but quickly rose to follow the others when they saw them pass. Sandy frantically poked at North’s calve, demanding to know what was going on.

“No time to explain, Pitch is here,” North said. He had to stop and catch his breath as the others rummaged through the weapons, gathering their personal materials and a stake a piece.

“How?” Tooth said, incredulous, though she continued to slip on her gear. “It’s--”

“The middle of the day, I know. Armor. He apparently salvaged our robot and made a suit of its metal to protect him from the sunlight.”

“God above. North, are you certain you should be fighting? You can barely breathe.”

“I won’t be breathing at all if I leave Pitch to you lot,” he teased, though he had to pause once more to wheeze and regain his strength.

“Stay in the back, North, do you hear me?” Tooth said. “Someone alert Nightlight! He’s sleeping and won’t be able to fight aside us now, but at least we can make him aware.”

“Perhaps I can construct a quick set of armor for him as well,” North offered. “That might be of more use than worrying you in the back.”

“Smart thinking. For once. You retrieve him and take him down to the shop with you. Make sure Katherine and Jack do not leave the library!”

“Oh, kisa will be happy to hear she is forbidden to fight even when the battle is at her doorstep. Very well, though.”

North made his way up the stairs as quickly as possible to the area where the vampire slept, tucked away in the darkest closet of the darkest room within the tree. The blinds were drawn shut and he tripped over his own feet more than once trying to locate the closet door. Upon opening it he found that the vampire was already awake, likely stirred by his commotion. Nightlight helped guide him through the darkness to the entrance of the door, where there were enough shadows to afford him some safety.

“Pitch is here,” North explained once again. “He’s wearing a suit of armor that protects him from the sunlight. I think I can construct something similar for you so you can aid us. Go to the machine shop and begin gathering pieces for a suit. I need to secure Jack and Katherine.”

Nightlight hesitated upon hearing Katherine’s name.

“Go! Go, I will be sure she is safe!”

The vampire lingered for but another moment before he darted down the stairs and toward the machine shop. North suspected Nightlight was aware that his affection for Katherine was equally as strong, if not of the same sort, as his. Satisfied, North next made his way to the library, trying to disregard the pain throbbing throughout his body. He found Katherine and Jack exactly where they ought to be, chatting happily on some mundane topic. He tried to calm his features when he looked at them, but they both sensed his panic before he could manage to feign a smile.

“North, what’s wrong?” Katherine said, alarmed.

“Nothing, kisa,” he assured her. “I ask that the two of you stay here for a while, yes?”

“Why, North? What’s going on? Something’s going on, I know there is!”

“Is it Pitch?” asked Jack, the name’s mention causing Katherine to get even more excited.

“It’s Pitch isn’t it, North? I want to see him! Let me out of here, I need to see--”

“Kisa, there is nothing to see. Please obey me and do not leave this library! I will give you anything when I return, I promise. Please stay here, please…”

Katherine rushed toward the exit, and North quickly slammed the doors shut and exclaimed the first warding charm that came to mind, relief washing over him when he felt her try the locks and the doors failed to open. Just for his greater peace of mind, he found a heavy padlock to clamp over the door handles as well, and with that he descended to the machine shop, faint knocking and childish curses at his back.

\---

“I hate him!” Katherine snarled, kicking at the library entrance doors for good measure. “He’s worse than Ombric! He thinks he’s my father and ought to protect me like a little princess! I know Pitch is out there. Jack, we have to get out of here.”

“I know,” Jack said. “Pitch is only going to attack the villagers until he finds what he’s looking for...which I suspect is me. This is my chance, Katherine. This is my chance to prove myself.”

“And my only chance to see Pitch in the flesh before he’s turned to dust! Ugh, surely there’s got to be a way…”

She tried and succeeded in breaking the warding charm against the door, but her elation quickly dissolved when she felt the padlock’s heavy weight.

“That rat bastard! Oh of course they’d leave a former thief to the locks, we’re never getting out of here!”

“Perhaps not that way,” said Jack, who’d been poking around the walls. “This place is a giant tree, right?”

“Well, yeah…”

“We’re not at the center, so there must be branches right outside the walls.”

“We can’t just chop through the walls, Jack… first of all, we don’t have an ax. And Ombric wouldn’t like having to repair that.”

“Well, I can solve one of our problems…”

She watched, wide-eyed, as Jack took hold of a giant bookshelf’s center and rocked it to and fro until it teetered. She gasped when it looked as though the heavy thing might topple over on him, and cried out when he suddenly leapt at it with force, knocking it backward. The heavy weight collided with the wall and there was a sickening crack. The wall splintered and cracked as books went flying, and soon, with a final ugly noise, the library suddenly provided a very nice view of the lovely afternoon sky. Jack watched the bookshelf crash below.

“Don’t worry,” he assured Katherine. “There wasn’t anyone below. But I’m sure some of the books might have been damaged. Oh, and we definitely got everyone’s attention.”

“Come on,” she gasped, rushing toward the opening. She screeched to halt seeing what awaited below. There were several branches that would help them on the way down, but Katherine was terrified of heights and tended to freeze at the sight of them.

“Oh no,” she moaned. “Jack I can’t. I can’t make that.”

“Yes you can,” he said. “Close your eyes and I’ll carry you. I promise I won’t drop you! I used to do this with my sister all the time.”

“No,” she sobbed, but she let him pick her up and was too scared to flail when he eased them onto a branch below. She tucked her face against his chest and tried to stifle her crying the best she could. Why did it half to be heights! Now Pitch would see her and think she was afraid of him, when in fact the source of her fear was something far less intimidating. 

She felt Jack move from branch to branch, and only opened her eyes when she knew the grass was at her feet. Unfortunately, their arrival to solid ground only meant they were met with their next challenge. Several of the hunters and Ombric had been gathered around the bottom near the broken shelf since they’d drawn their attention.

“What are you two doing?” Ombric nearly shrieked. “Get out of here, now! Do you not see Pitch mere feet away?”

Katherine and Jack looked around, searching for Pitch. The streets were empty, save for them.

“Where? I don’t see him.”

The hunters and Ombric assumed defensive stances, attempting to create a circle around the youths. 

“He was…! He was there, I swear it,” Tooth muttered. She felt paranoia overwhelm her, and searched high and low for the armored vampire. How could he move so quickly and soundlessly even in the heavy metal suit?

Katherine felt Jack squeeze her hand. She somehow knew this was her last and only chance to see the vampire that had so fascinated her from the pages of her books. In Jack’s dark eyes she saw a determination. There was love there, but also pain. He knew what he must do to ease his soul and prove himself.

When Jack burst forth from the cage of bodies, she held tight to his hand and ran as fast as she could. Her shorter legs could not carry her as fast as Jack, but that was okay, for before she knew it she was in his arms again. Jack called for Pitch, beckoning forth the wicked vampire so he might slay him at last. And she, she who had only dreamed of a passing glimpse of Pitch, was Jack’s noble partner in this act. She would stand beside him through it all, assuring him he was right to do it even if it hurt beyond mortal comprehension.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispered, and Katherine felt his hand close around her throat.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The fourth Guardians of Childhood book is scheduled for release in America on 11/5/13. I am posting this chapter on 11/3/13, and the plot of this fic was largely conceived in February 2013. I'm aware that when some come across this, the characterization or certain names may not align with canon. I plan to revisit the fic and tweak minor issues, but I do not anticipate an overhaul of characters or plot given the AU setting.**
> 
> As this fic nears completion (at last!), I'd like to extend my thanks to all of those who gave it a chance. I'm new to writing lengthy fic, and though this was a struggle and still needs to be heavily edited at some point, I do believe it was good practice and prepared me for future projects. Hope you'll stick around to see me improve. Much love.

Pitch watched his former lover rush into the streets, a young girl cradled like a bride in his arms. The overwhelming affection for Jack he’d felt upon first seeing him climbing down the branches of the great tree met a quick end when he noticed the girl. She was younger than Jack, a pretty yet unsexual creature, but her affection for Jack was so great he could sense it from his hiding spot well out of their range. He did not need to breathe her scent or hear the beating of her heart -- the way she looked upon Jack so tenderly, the way he held her… it was enough that Pitch knew his venture to retrieve Jack was a bitter, hollow effort.

Jack called out for him, but he had no desire for a confrontation. Likely Jack wanted him to come forth so he might slay him in the name of his new, innocent love. Pitch felt so defeated and utterly alone he considered perhaps he should offer his life to Jack. His lost love would be heralded as a hero for killing him, and he would quit the world without a suicide as the final tarnish on his failure of an existence. His daughter had not forgiven him in centuries, and the mortals he loved denied him again and again. What purpose was there in hiding beneath this armor, a knight in pretend? He was the hated villain of his own story, and it would have no happy ending lest he cast off his protection and welcome his defeat. 

It had been such a long time since he’d felt the sun against his skin. It would agonize him, but in those first few seconds, the burn would be but a sharp kiss. He could even pretend it was Jack, newly turned, raking his budding fangs against his flesh. The pain would last but for a few minutes. It was what he owed Sera, Jack, and all the others he’d loved and failed. He sighed and prepared to reveal himself, nearing the town plaza where Jack stood with the girl flush against him.

The attack happened too quickly for even Pitch’s eyes to register. One moment he looked upon Jack and the girl embracing, and in the next moment his beloved was upon the ground in a pool of spreading red.

“Jack!”

He did not care if his voice alerted the others to his presence. The sharp scent of Jack’s familiar blood drew him to the boy, and soon he was kneeling in the warm wetness, panicked. The source of the bleeding was a stab wound just beneath Jack’s ribs, a blow that had cut through his clothing to expose the gore beneath. Fatty tissue, muscle and shattered bone protruded from the wound, and Pitch knew the weapon had also pierced something vital within. Faint life still hummed through Jack’s veins, though it flowed from him as quickly as the blood from his gaping wound.

“Jack, why, please,” came Pitch’s voice from behind the metal that masked his face. His unpracticed sobs were worst than before, ringing metallically within the helm. “I did not want you to leave. I never wanted this.”

Jack coughed, blood sputtering from between his lips and down his chin.

“Never too late,” he said weakly, his voice wracked by gasps. “If Faustus will repent.”

“You’ve repented, God above, if that’s what you need to hear, you have repented.”

Pitch would give Jack his religion in this final hour. He suspected the boy had never quitted it, despite his lamentations that God was uncaring or did not exist at all. In these late hours, a hope for something beyond pain and mortal emptiness was often all that could soothe a human. He did not care if he fed Jack a falsehood if it meant he should die in peace.

“Faustus… Faustus did not repent,” came Jack’s voice again, fainter. His pulse was slowing to the gentle lull of a life at its precipice, between being and unbeginning. “I knew what awaited me at the end of my life should I not return your gift. I hope… I hope this proves…”

With a howl of despair, Pitch ripped the metal helm from his head and leaned forward, piercing the neck of his lover with six sharp fangs. He drank what little blood still flowed through Jack’s veins, and then threw aside his makeshift vambrace to so he might slit a wound in his own wrist. From the weak, ancient vein of the vampire trickled blood long frozen and long untasted. He burned in the evening sun, but Pitch forced himself to endure his pain to assure the sparse drops he had to offer his little lover met his lips and passed over his tongue.

It was not until he say the pale flesh of Jack’s skin begin to redden in the sunlight that he allowed himself to feel the agony. It had been a full three minutes, and he could not move.

\---

The most surprising individuals rush to the aid of a pair of dying vampires who have, until that point in time, shown them nothing but deceit and cruelty. Katherine might have been the first to run toward them had she not been restrained by Nightlight, who still trembled after witnessing her nearly choked by Jack. He’d acted without hesitation, stabbing her attacker and hurrying the girl to safety. His face and hands were mildly burned, for he’d lost the armor North created for him in the process of dashing for Katherine, but overall he remained the most unharmed of the vampires present. 

Bunny was the one to roll the burning pair under the shade of a tree and cover them the best he could with his own body. The smell of rotten flesh made him gag, and Ombric’s angry cries echoed in his ears, but he did not budge. He swore he heard the voices of his dead kin curse him a thousand times for saving the lives of such wretches, but still he did not move from them. It was not until Katherine, who’d managed to break away from her concerned companion at last, brought fabric to cover them that he rolled away from them and cried. He did not understand what he had done and he hated himself for it in that moment.

An argument erupted among the others, which apparently met its end when Nightlight pressed his staff blade to Ombric’s chest in trembling rage and menacingly announced, “No longer.”

Bunny did not understand any of the madness that surrounded him. He did not want to face the reality of what he’d done by rescuing Jack and Pitch. He dry heaved upon the grass and shook all over, and erupted into howls that were meant for the throat and soul of a wolf. The stench of the burning flesh came to him when it began to grow dark and it made him claw at the old wounds across his flesh he’d put there long ago in a similar rage. He felt the presence of his friends surrounding him throughout the episode, and when he came to his senses he lay in the cold, dewy grass of morning. Tooth was at his side.

He sat up and wondered what horrors he might have committed in his rage. He first checked Tooth for wounds, and when he found none he pressed his fingers to her neck to assure himself there was a pulse. She stirred and batted at his hand in her sleep. He sat up and found none of the ruin he expected. The vampires were gone, and the village was quiet excepting the bird songs flowing around them. His heart filled again with dread when he realized how unreal all that surrounded him seemed, and he asked aloud for confirmation if he’d died and was now within the spirit world.

“I’m flattered,” came Tooth’s voice from beside him. “That you want me tagging along with you in the afterlife, but you’re very much alive.”

“Tooth? What happened? Where is everyone?”

“You mean where are Pitch and Jack. A friend came along and took them home.”

“Friend?”

“I suppose we were all a bit sheepish to find Pitch really does have a daughter. You believed Katherine’s tale, didn’t you? Well, you were right…. last night she came and retrieved the two of them.”

“They’re alive?”

“Alive, but wounded. According to Sera -- that’s his daughter, I should mention -- they will be confined to their beds to heal for a few weeks.

“So Jack…”

“Was transformed yesterday on the brink of death. I’m still trying to understand it all, Bunny. I don’t blame you for going off in a fit like you did. At this point I have no idea who we’re fighting for anymore.”

“The good guys, right?” he tried to joke.

“The good guys,” she groaned. “Who are they, Bunny? One moment I believed I could trust Jack because Katherine loved him so dearly, but that child truly would befriend the devil if she met him. He tried to choke her, Bunny. Do you remember that? Him screaming that he would prove he was enough, no matter the cost? I don’t think he hates her. I think whatever obsessive, twisted love has woven itself between Jack and Pitch drove him to seek validation the only way he knew how. Katherine has already forgiven him and wants to visit him when he’s well. I don’t know if I can do that, Bunny. I don’t know if I can force myself to let go of so much hatred. How is it possible? How did you do it?”

He pondered on what he’d done the prior afternoon. He’d watched his greatest enemy, the killer of his kin, the creature that had nearly been his own ruin, burn in the sunlight. He thought such a moment would be his sweetest victory, and instead it had filled him with such dread he’d rolled Pitch and his lover out of the sunlight and saved their lives. How, indeed, and why, had he done such a thing?

“It just didn’t feel right,” he said. “I started to feel funny about Manny and Ombric. I just… I felt if we lost Pitch, we might be up against something we couldn’t handle without him. It certainly wasn’t because I felt any love toward him, or that little scoundrel. Never trusted him for a minute.”

“Well,” said Tooth. “Your instincts are better than anyone’s after all, Bunny. Nightlight prevented Ombric from killing Pitch as well. Apparently he is a threat against Manny. There’s been a problem among Manny and his establishment, we’ve been told, and he planned to rid himself of Pitch prior to retracting a law that limits vampiric murders of humans.”

“I thought Manny’s entire reign was founded on such a limitation.”

“Apparently restrictions have driven the others of his kind mad. They’ve been feeding so sparsely over the past centuries they’re chronically weak, and their bloodlust has peaked. They demand to be allowed to feed freely, and Manny’s been pressured to release them upon the world. In their hunger they will decimate human populations beyond repair. Nightlight thought it a horrible plan as well, but Manny would listen to no other ideas. He’s been considering rebeling for some months now.”

“And Pitch,” said Bunny. “How does he play into this?”

“There’s some confusion over that. The motive to be rid of him is most likely born of paranoia, but Pitch’s daughter offered that Manny had a legitimate reason to fear Pitch overtaking him because of his sympathy toward humankind.”

“That’s a laugh.”

“I told you, I don’t know who to trust anymore. I wanted to slay Pitch, oh how I wanted it! I would have ran forward and committed the deed had I not witnessed the fight between Ombric and Nightlight, whom I thought were one another’s allies. Now that I’ve learned what Ombric was doing, I cannot support their efforts anymore. I doubt Pitch is our ally, but Bunny… do you know what he meant to do to you?”

Unease washed over Bunny seeing tears prick in the corners of Tooth’s eyes.

“Does this have to do with the injections?” he said.

“Yes,” Tooth replied. “He’s been trying to induce a permanent transformation. They meant to trap you in your werewolf form and make a weapon of you.”

He felt sick. It was horrific enough to transform and remain in that form for a few hours. He could not imagine remaining a werewolf for a time beyond that. 

“God,” he hissed. “Where is he now?”

“He is dead by Nightlight’s hand. Nightlight had no desire to kill him, but he continued to fight and had no choice.”

“Oh, what of Katherine then? Her father is dead by her friend’s hand!”

“She is distressed, as is Nightlight, but they find comfort in one another. She witnessed the fight and knows it was not by choice that he killed him. He’s offered to let her come with him, and care for her in Ombric’s place.”

Bunny sighed, overwhelmed with all of the new information. 

“What now?” he said.

“I don’t know. Soon enough Manny will grow restless when he receives no correspondence from Ombric. It seems our only choice is to keep him fooled long enough for Pitch to recover, and hope he will help us face Manny and the council before they unleash the vampires in their bloodlust.”

“So you’re telling me that all our hope -- all hope for humankind -- lies on whether our enemy will help us?”

“You seemed to believe that was the solution when you spared Pitch,” she said. “So that paltry hope is all we have right now. Sera promised me she would return with news in a few weeks time. Until then, we can only wait.”

\---

Jack awoke several days before Pitch.

When he first sat up, he was struck by a pang of hunger deeper than any he’d ever felt before. His gut gnawed at itself, twisting and squelching, and it was all he could do not to moan in pain at the sensation. He blinked, looking around to discern where he was. He recalled little of what had happened prior to coming to wherever he was now, but the memories slowly pieced themselves together. His hand went to his side, feeling for the wound, but his fingers met smooth flesh. There was not even the indentation of a scar.

Surely he hadn’t imagined the stabbing. He clearly remembered being stabbed after his attempt to strangle the girl in Santoff Claussen, proof to Pitch he was not merely a weak, pathetic human unworthy of love. He was overcome with guilt remembering the event. He’d never wanted to hurt Katherine, his only friend among his captors, but her trust made her the most accessible sacrifice to offer his lover. And Pitch! What of Pitch, who had ran to him in the sunlight and healed him? Had he imagined that too? Was he awakening now in purgatory after dying in the streets of Santoff Claussen?

Jack raised a hand to his neck, and realization washed over him as he recalled what had happened in the village. Pitch hadn’t healed him -- he’d turned him into a vampire.

He pushed his tongue against his upper teeth, and his normally dull canines pricked the muscle. Shock coursed through him. He remembered now the feeling of Pitch’s fangs easing into his neck back in the village, in the way they’d done countless times before. During all the times Pitch fed from him he’d never turned him, so he must have done something else to initiate the transformation. Jack tried to think of what it could be to no avail. Only when he looked down, finding Pitch at his side, did it click.

The hunger surged again when he saw his lover, and he knew Pitch’s blood was the source of his transformation. Though he could not remember drinking of him, his tongue held the memory of his blood, an ancient vintage aged in pain and loss. Below its dryness, however, there lingered another aroma with which Jack was familiar, having partaken of it across many years in the company of family and friends. He tasted a deep and honest love.

Jack suspected the room was dark, but his newly enhanced vision allowed him to see Pitch as though he looked upon him in daylight. He was horrified to find his lover’s face badly wounded, no doubt because he’d exposed the flesh to the sun. He touched his own face, wondering if he’d also burned in the sunlight, but the skin felt normal. His hand fell again to his neck, feeling for puncture wounds. Like the stab wound, the flesh was smooth and held no evidence of a wound. He hoped his body’s ability to heal was a trait in all vampires, and that Pitch’s flesh would mend itself in time. Jack would remain with him even if it scarred over and marred his lover’s beauty, however, for the wounds were the result of Pitch risking his own life to preserve Jack’s.

He’d thought Pitch regarded him as nothing worth saving after he nearly let him die at the hands of the hunters, but now he knew that Pitch did care for him in some way. He shook Pitch in his excitement, but his lover slept heavily and could not be roused. He hoped when Pitch awoke he would explain everything. Jack yearned to confess the depth of his own desire, and know if his actions in Santoff Claussen had indeed proven him worthy of Pitch. He longed for it to be so, for if Pitch awoke and still did not think him deserving of his love he was even more repugnant for his actions, which would be not only cruel, but meaningless.

In the dark, quiet room he brought his sleeping lover’s wrist to his mouth and raked his newly grown fangs across the soft flesh. Though sharper than before, the fangs still proved too dull to penetrate skin without some effort. Jack worked up the courage to clench his jaw, and at last they sank into Pitch’s flesh. Blood bloomed around his teeth and flowed into his mouth, and he drank like a newborn at his mother’s breast. Throughout this Pitch tossed in his sleep, but did not wake. 

As one so newly turned Jack retained much of his humanity, and felt nauseated at the end of his first feeding. The blood that moments before sated his hunger was now a bitter aftertaste. The flavor of passion and ancient pain faded, and all that remained was a familiar metallic sharpness. Jack wondered if he’d been mistaken about being turned, and drank of Pitch when he was in fact, human. The thought of being driven to do something so vile, not in true bloodlust, but of his own free will, made him retch. He became violently ill, and soon all of the blood he’d taken from Pitch was spilled upon the floor. When the retching ceased, he was trembling, trying to will away the awful taste in his mouth and the confusion that tormented him.

He heard footsteps and the creaking of a door, and wildly sought the source of the noise. It was not until the door opened and a strange woman emerged from the other side that he realized where he was. Beyond her, he could see the bedroom where he and Pitch had shared so many nights of passion. He was within the room just adjacent to it, where Pitch’s coffin was kept. They were home.

“I see you’ve attempted to feed,” said the strange woman, coming nearer to him. Jack instinctually tried to crawl away, but he was too weak and confused to get very far.

“I’m Seraphina,” the woman said as she crouched beside of him. “I was Pitch’s daughter many centuries ago, though it seems frivolous to call myself that now. You needn’t fear me, Jack. Come with me and we can speak.”

He tentatively took the hand she offered and let her pull him to his feet. After leading him into the bedroom and securing the door behind them, she asked him to follow her to the dining room. As they moved throughout the home Jack noted that though no candles burned, he could see everything quite well. 

Seraphina asked him to be seated at the table and disappeared into the next room for a moment before returning with a wine glass brimming with blood. She saw the look of disgust on his face when she placed it before him and shook her head.

“I know it is horrible, but henceforth this is all that will sate you. It is not human blood, but it will give you strength. Drink slowly, Jack, and I believe you will be able to tolerate it.”

She watched him as he reluctantly raised the glass to his lips, forcing down a few sips before lowering the glass to the table. To think he’d once perceived wine to be the foulest thing to pass between his lips. However, though flat and unflavorful, the blood did not leave an aftertaste and no urge to retch followed.

“Thank you,” he said, unsure of what to say to the stranger.

“Don’t thank me,” Seraphina said. “I’ve no love of vampires and the spread of their curse. Under normal circumstances, I would have let you die. Fortunately for you, I have need of Pitch, and without you he is a rather miserable, worthless creature. That is the only reason I extend kindness, little vampire.”

“Are you not a vampire too?” he asked.

“I am, in thanks to the same creature that turned you. When I came to him several weeks ago, he told me about you. You were quite adamant about remaining human, he said. Though now that you sit before me, I do not see one who mourns the loss of his mortality. You are not like I was. I cried and attempted self-destruction when I underwent the transformation.”

Jack considered the transformation, and found that the dread he’d felt toward the idea as a mortal was no longer present. He was so happy to be reunited with Pitch that the change was an afterthought, merely the turn of a page in the story they’d began together. Perhaps he was mad, but he could not force himself to be upset with Pitch. His lover had turned him to preserve his soul, and such a gesture was more precious to him than the promise of release at mortality’s end.

“I love him,” he offered, gazing up at Seraphina. “And now I believe that he loves me too. That matters more to me than anything, even humanity.”

“You are a fool, but at least a happy fool for the time being,” she said, her grim expression never softening. “I hope your love is powerful enough to push you through the nights you must murder. Let it be enough to comfort you when the world around you grows and changes, and you stagnate. Perhaps you will never feel the vampire’s pain until you are many centuries old, but some day it will be upon you, Jack.”

“I know I will struggle, but Pitch will be there,” he said, though even he doubted his conviction. “Why did you go about the trouble of bringing us here if you hate us, in any case?”

“As I mentioned, I have need of Pitch. You know only of the vampire hunters, but Pitch has far more troublesome enemies who also happen to be enemies of humankind. I will defend mortality at any cost, even if it means enlisting the help of my life’s bane. I’ve done him the kindness of bringing the two of you to safety, and now he is within my debt.”

Jack took another sip of the blood in the wine glass, his emotions stirring. During the course of the short conversation, he’d learned things about Pitch he’d never told him in their time together. Perhaps there existed secrets even darker and more terrible than Pitch’s slaughter of the werewolves. If he had so many enemies, it surely meant he was at fault in some of the cases. He wondered if Seraphina was right, and that his love for Pitch would be merely a raft pitted against a neverending storm at sea.

“Will his wounds heal?” he asked Seraphina in lieu of speaking his thoughts.

“Yes. I hope he will be fully recovered in a week’s time at the most. Would you leave him if I told you otherwise, little one? Should he be robbed of handsomeness, will he no longer entice you?”

“No, it isn’t like that at all!” Jack insisted. “Why are you so ill-tempered toward me? I only wanted to know. I would remain either way.”

“Of course,” she said, her flat tone laced with derision. “I’ve no doubt you would remain even if I told you he was deprived of the ability to make love to you. You’re more deeply enthralled than a mortal truly under the power of a vampire’s spell. But rest assured, you need not sacrifice shallow physical attraction or sex to be with Pitch. He will return to normal.”

For the next few days, Jack kept vigil over Pitch at night, and rested aside him during the light hours. Pitch improved rapidly, and soon the wounds faded and all that remained was for him to wake. Seraphina never warmed toward Jack during this time, though she continued to serve him blood in the evenings. The blood was that of lowly animals like field mice and rabbits, and it only sated Jack enough to stifle his bloodlust. Apparently Seraphina herself thrived on the blood of beasts, but he still hungered even when he drank several glasses. He’d never tasted human blood, but he knew that was all that could truly quell his yearning. However, Seraphina refused to kill a mortal or even bring him one from which he could feed and release. Thus, his only relief came when he suckled from Pitch’s wrist prior to curling aside him to sleep. The blood always tasted of the extraordinary marriage of age, pain, and love when the first few droplets met his tongue, and though it inevitably faded to the tang of metal, Jack no longer retched it up. He coveted the blood of his lover and maker and kept in locked away in his belly, refusing to forfeit it to nausea. 

\---

It was during Jack’s feeding one early morning that Pitch at last awoke. He sat up, wild with confusion as Jack had been a few days prior. Jack wanted to embrace him, but Pitch snatched his wrist away and scooted backward, pinning himself against the wall.

“Pitch,” Jack said, his chest tight as he realized Pitch looked upon him as a stranger. “Pitch, it’s me. It’s Jack. We’re home.”

Pitch’s eyes raked over him thrice before settling. He stared into Jack’s eyes and the confusion slowly gave way to realization. Jack expected him to grin, or come forward to kiss him, but instead he gave a mournful groan and averted his gaze.

“What have I done to you, Jack?” he lamented.

Jack raised his hands and felt at his face self-consciously, fearing he’d scarred after all and not realized it. He cursed himself for not thinking to look in a mirror since he’d awoken, but remembered Pitch kept none in the house anyways.

“I thought I’d healed,” he said, panicked as he felt for scars that were not there. “What’s wrong with me Pitch? Am I deformed?”

Pitch scooted forward on his knees and clutched Jack around the waist, bringing him to a kneeling position in front of him.

“No Jack, God no,” Pitch whispered. “You remain the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen across the centuries. But I’ve killed you -- no, I’ve done far worse. I’ve made you like me.”

The legends of vampires never mentioned they possessed the ability to cry, so it shocked Jack when a tear rolled from Pitch’s eye and across his pale cheekbone. He leaned forward to kiss the salty trail and a second tear wet his upper lip.

“Why do you cry?” he asked, drawing back to stare at Pitch. “I thought you wanted me to become a vampire, Pitch. I thought you wanted me to be by your side forever.”

Familiar dread swelled in his chest. Seraphina was right, he was a fool to love Pitch. The vampire did not want him. His transformation had been a mistake, a horrible miscarriage of Pitch’s attempt to heal him! He’d never meant to immortalize him through his actions!

“I’ll go,” he blurted when Pitch did not reply quickly enough. “I’ll go, I’ll go. I’ll leave, I’ll never trouble you again. I--”

“Be calm,” Pitch hissed, clutching his waist so tightly Jack winced in pain. “This is all I wanted, Jack, all I’ve ever wanted from the moment I first looked upon you. But it is not what you wanted. I swore I’d never turn another after the suffering I caused Seraphina, and now my selfishness has claimed another victim. I thought myself stronger after surviving so many years without the companionship of another immortal, but it only weakened my will. I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so, so sorry.”

Jack broke into laughter that startled Pitch as well as himself. The broken, strange noise was all he could emit for several minutes, and it took Pitch shaking him for it to finally stop. He retained the wide, unnerving grin constructed during the fit, a smile which he knew exposed his new fangs, as he spoke.

“I wanted this,” he said, his voice high and bordering deranged. “I wanted this, Pitch. God! You think you’ve destroyed me, but this is what I asked of you as you cradled me during my dying moments. The ending to our play, remember? Faustus did not repent, even when he was given the chance time and time again!”

“Quiet!” Pitch demanded, and Jack sobered. “Do not toy with me, Jack. Is this truly what you desire?”

“Yes! Yes, I swear it! I only left you so I might prove myself. I wanted to be the undoing of those damned hunters that came into our home. I felt you might love me then, if I showed you I wasn’t weak, if I helped you kill them--”

“Idiot,” Pitch said. “You are an idiot, as am I. I lied when I said you did not matter to me. I lied when I said I could not love you. I did not want to admit to myself or you I cared so much about one who did not return my affection, but I cannot continue to deny it, Jack. I hope you are sincere about wanting to be together across eternity.”

“I’m sincere,” Jack promised him. “I never wanted to leave. I thought I was nothing more to you than a body which kept you fed, and yet I still wanted you. I left with a scheme to deceive the hunters and lead them to you so you would see I was capable, so you would think of me as more than a source of food and a bed warmer, so--”

Pitch placed his index finger to Jack’s lips to quiet his rambling.

“Now you know that was never the case, and I know you did not abandon me. I know you yearn to linger on this event, but I am starved and need to feed, so I ask we put it aside for now.”

Jack did not hesitate to tilt his head to the side, offering his neck. Pitch stared at it, hunger in his eyes, but did not move forward.

“I cannot feed from you anymore,” he said. “The blood that runs through your veins can no longer sustain me.”

“But I fed from you,” Jack said. “I took blood from your wrist when you were asleep, and it made me feel better.”

“Is that so? I’ve never drank of another vampire. It is generally considered an offense to bite another of our kind. Drinking is unheard of.”

“I don’t care what you do. It won’t offend me. I’ve missed the feel of your fangs inside of me…”

“You tempt me, my lily. Though I’m doubtful your blood will help, I have so missed being within you…”

Pitch leaned forward to accept Jack’s offer, sinking his fangs into the pale flesh with none of the usual preparation. He need not fear killing Jack in this way anymore, a fact that thrilled him when he realized he very much wanted to retain the practice in their new life together. It did not matter if it was a fruitless and perverse practice. It brought him pleasure to sink his fangs into Jack and nurse on his dead blood. It was foul in his mouth, heavy with fresh rot and corruption. The sweetness of Jack’s essence was forever tainted now. The blood that had once ran bright and pure across Pitch’s tongue now seemed spilled from an inkwell it was so black. Vice had fatted it so that it oozed down his throat rather than flowed. It was repulsive, more apt to be called bile than blood, but Pitch could not tear himself away from the throat of his lover.

Jack took his wrist and fed from him at the same time. While the younger vampire suckled like a sleepy babe at a breast, Pitch greedily imbibed, filling his belly like an animal that had come across a watering hole after weeks of desiccation. Pitch could already sense the blood would cause him to be sick later, but he did not pull away until he’d drank himself to fullness. Jack still nursed at his wrist, but allowed himself to be pulled away when Pitch tugged at his hair. Pitch had expected resistance and entangled his fingers rather firmly in the boy’s locks, but he relaxed his grip and petted him when Jack lifted his head.

“It is a shame you can never see your reflection again,” Pitch said. “The transformation turned your hair to frost, and your eyes the blue of lakes in winter.”

“Really?” Jack breathed, reaching up to touch his hair as if that would allow him to see it. “I wish I could see.”

“Perhaps I will simply describe your features to you each night and you can see your beauty in that way,” Pitch told him softly.

They undressed there upon the floor, wanting one another so badly neither could wait until night fell so they might use the bed in the next room. Pitch pushed his young lover down and lingered above him, drinking in the sight of his new body. Jack had been a beautiful human, but as a vampire he was radiant. His body, which had already been quite pale from his time in Pitch’s company as a blood slave, had flushed out the last traces of mortality and left him lily white from head to toe, save for his eyes and the black blood caked against his throat.

“Let me be within you,” Pitch pleaded as he lay atop him, asking what he’d asked of Jack many times before. “You know I must be invited inside.”

“I thought that was only true of sacred places,” Jack said, knowing Pitch teased him. He smiled, amused that his somber lover should show humor at such an intimate time.

“Do you not know that your body is a temple?” Pitch quoted, surely damning them to hell if one existed. “Is that not what I seek to plunder and ruin, little lily?”

“I should hit you,” Jack chuckled. “I’ll bet I have the strength to make it hurt now. One more line such as that and I do it. I’m not a maiden to be wooed.”

They smiled at one another there in the dark room, and Jack at last gave Pitch permission to have him. 

Jack laid back and spread his thin legs apart, offering himself to Pitch for the second time that night. While Pitch’s hunger was sated, lust roared in his ears as loudly as it had when they drank from one another. His cock had been hard since the feeding, and it ached and oozed precome by the time Jack agreed to lie beneath him. Though he quashed the idea as soon as it entered his mind, Pitch was so eager he thought briefly of penetrating Jack without preparing him. The sight of the boy spreading himself wide, readily welcoming Pitch into the body from which he’d been barred for so long, made him forget his senses for a moment.

He needed to remember that this was not a singular occurrence, a light which would streak across the sky once and then disappear into the darkness for another hundred years. Jack would not wither in his embrace, turned old and feeble when only the prior night he’d been a young man. He did not make love to a human that denied him eternal companionship and would force him to mourn their passing. Jack was not his beloved late wife -- he could not kill him as he’d slain her, not by his demonic curse but with the blessing of a child. Jack was as he was. Their stories’ beginnings were the same line within different tomes, and now they would share their ending at the close of a single book.

“I love you,” Pitch whispered, his voice faint enough that only another vampire might have heard.

He slicked his fingers with saliva and reached between Jack’s open legs, slipping past his sac and pressing two against his hole. He caressed the delicate skin there fore a while, taking his time to soothe Jack and relearn the texture of his entrance. Jack whimpered softly when Pitch slipped them inside, barely enveloping his fingernails, but did not tense as he’d been in the habit of doing when he was human. Pitch pushed forward again when Jack pleaded for it, and the deeper he went the louder the boy moaned for him. He did not realize how far he’d penetrated until he felt the plushness of Jack’s thigh against his knuckles. Surprised by the sensation, he looked away from Jack’s face and gazed between his legs. Arousal surged through him when he saw his long fingers fully sheathed within Jack.

“You take me so eagerly,” he said hoarsely, wondering if Jack might be all right to take without preamble after all. 

Jack’s hole clenched around his fingers, and he began to ease them in and out. Jack attempted to push upward each time Pitch pressed them back inside, apparently desiring a harder pace. After some time Pitch obliged him, withdrawing his fingers and then thrusting them to the hilt in one quick motion. A sudden thrill ran through him when Jack responded by crying out his name, and he abandoned his slow, steady rhythm to thrust into the boy hard and fast. His hand should have grown tired, but Jack’s moans and the prospect of hearing his name upon his lover’s lips sustained him through the while in which all he did was pleasure Jack with his fingers.

He’d managed to sidle a third finger inside when Jack pushed at his wrist and asked him to cease.

“Too much?” Pitch asked, slipping his trembling fingers out.

“Not enough,” Jack panted. “I’m ready for you, Pitch.”

Jack raised his knees and cradled his legs, watching Pitch hurriedly slick himself. He draped his legs over Pitch’s shoulders when he came to lay atop him again, and the angle allowed Pitch to enter him relatively easily. He met little resistance when he pushed the head of his cock inside, and Jack continued to stretch around him until he was sheathed halfway. Jack felt only tepid within, not aflame as he would were he human. It was a small price to pay for Jack’s eternal companionship, though Pitch could not help but feel a bit disappointed. He’d always enjoyed the feel of mortal lovers, their heat the closest he would come to pleasurable sunlight against his skin. He’d never lain with another vampire before Jack, and hadn’t considered they’d surely differ in this way.

“Is it okay?” Jack asked, apparently sensing Pitch’s disappointment. He looked up at him with wide blue eyes, his lips parted so Pitch could make out the tips of his lengthened canines.

Pitch leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

“Perfect,” he assured him.

Pitch soon learned he’d not lost the heat he so cherished, but that it was merely reduced to a small, weak flame that would flare when tended to. After pushing the rest of his cock inside his lover, he let Jack adjust to him before pulling out and then slipping in again, setting a rhythm. Jack gradually loosened around him so he could thrust in fast and hard without worrying he’d hurt the boy. The faster motions caused Jack to writhe beneath him, and sent a spark of desire coursing through his veins that roused his cold blood. Passion between the immortals drew warmth from relic hearts, and the cool grip around Pitch’s cock became heated as he fucked the young vampire at an ever faster pace. Jack wrapped his slender legs around Pitch’s waist to keep their bodies close and force Pitch’s cock to remain deep. He raised his arms, surely meaning to embrace Pitch in the way he’d done with his legs, but his hands instead fell to the small of Pitch’s back.

Pitch shoved inside of the boy so hard he moved him several inches across the floor. He growled when he felt Jack rake his nails across his back, the scent of blood immediately stinging in his nostrils. Jack sensed it too, for he brought one of his hands to his lips and sucked at the droplets beneath his nails.

“We’ll feed you properly soon,” he murmured against Jack’s ear. “Put that hand to better use for now.”

He guided Jack’s hand between them to the boy’s hard cock, lying neglected against his stomach. Jack seemed lost in the overwhelming sensation of being taken, and obeyed as if in a trance. Pitch felt smug knowing he’d reduced him to such a state, and continued to fuck him relentlessly. He relished every slick noise their lovemaking created, the noise sweeter to him knowing Jack’s new senses allowed him hear it too. Jack knew the exact moment his body opened for Pitch. He could hear the soft squelch that signaled Pitch had pressed against him to the hilt. The smack of skin against skin was amplified for him, so it seemed in Jack’s mind the entire world could hear them making love -- and yet Jack did nothing to quiet his moans or stifle their noise, and that aroused Pitch most of all.

The novel feel of having Pitch inside, coupled with his enhanced senses, made Jack release first. The clumsy stroking of his hand was an afterthought, the final tug to release a knot Pitch’s fingers and cock had unraveled throughout the hour. His come spilled across his hand and stomach, and Pitch brought his thin fingers to his mouth to suck away all that he could get of the boy’s essence. He allowed himself to release soon after, spilling into the tired, sluggish body beneath him. He slumped forward and did not pull away, wanting to keep himself speared inside of Jack for as long as his cock would allow.

Jack’s legs trembled as he unwound them from Pitch’s waist, and Pitch’s softening cock slipped from him when he rested them against the floor. Both of them heard the soft drip of come from between Jack’s legs as it pattered to the ground below. Smirking, Pitch gave Jack’s neck an affectionate nip before turning away to clean himself.

“See,” Pitch said. “That wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time I fed from you, was it?”

Jack did not answer, and Pitch looked over his shoulder to see his find his little lover fallen into an exhausted, sated snooze.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been about 2 years since I updated this fic. A few people recently asked if I planned to continue it. Truthfully, I lost motivation to work on the story a while back, and am no longer active in the RotG fandom. However, I've decided to post what I wrote of the final chapter for some sense of closure.
> 
> Please be aware that this chapter ends on a cliffhanger, as it was originally intended to segue into a sequel. While I realize this will be a disappointing end for many, I do hope you've enjoyed the story overall. Thank you very much for reading.

The day Nightlight killed Ombric, North decided then and there he would step in as the new guardian of Santoff Claussen.

His days became consumed by new responsibilities. When he was not holed away in Ombric’s office trying to make sense of his records regarding the village’s upkeep, he was attempting to assuage the villagers. After witnessing a fearsome vampire like Pitch in their streets, the residents became depressed and were now constantly on edge. Many of them hated the hunters and Nightlight for the loss of Ombric, and North’s attempts to soothe them only inspired greater contempt.

Even the children that so adored North barely spoke to him anymore. Yet he persisted, driven by a love for the peculiar village. It was the first place he’d ever truly felt at home, and he refused to let it fall apart in Ombric’s absence.

North felt incredibly guilty about Ombric’s death, though he knew now that he wasn’t the innocent old man he’d perceived him to be. Ombric had attempted to induce a permanent werewolf state in Bunny under the guise of administering a ‘cure’ for his lycanthropy so Manny might use him as a weapon.

That alone was enough to cast Ombric as a villain, but there was also the matter of his involvement with Manny’s plan to unleash starved vampires upon humankind. When North went through Ombric’s belongings he found letters from Manny that implied the old man was wary about the plan, but eventually caved when Manny promised Santoff Claussen would be protected if the vampires went on a feeding frenzy. Such a promise held little weight; vampires wouldn’t discriminate in their killings if they became drunk on bloodlust, an inevitable reaction to feeding freely after centuries of restrictions.

North suspected Ombric knew this, and primarily agreed to aid in Manny’s plot because he saw no alternative. Still, Ombric was not guiltless - he’d continued to attack Nightlight even when the boy vampire tried to reason with him during their fight, and convince him Manny’s plan was flawed. That, combined with his involvement in the first place, and his experiments on Bunny, made him their enemy in the end.

North knew this. He knew it was best Ombric was killed by Nightlight before he could turn on them and harm anyone -- but he also felt horrible for what had happened. He’d warmed to Ombric the night they’d met, and the old man and his village sparked a passion and curiosity within him he’d not felt since his boyhood.

After discovering the wonders Santoff Claussen held, North no longer cared about treasure and riches, things which had ruled his life for many years. He did not want to chase after vampires for their relics anymore. Now, he wanted to create. He wanted to bring happiness to children with toys, and construct fantastical robots that could protect them. Such a change was Ombric’s doing, and no matter the terrible things he’d done, North could not discredit him for that.

Though he mourned the loss of his mentor and inspiration, North knew that another was far more devastated by Ombric’s death. Katherine lost a father the day Ombric died, and moreover she’d watched her friend deal the killing blow. Following his death she became depressed and now kept to her room most days, though she allowed Nightlight to join her. The vampire offered what comfort he knew to give, though it was obvious that years of isolation from mortals had blunted his empathy.  

Nightlight often came to North exasperated after a visit with Katherine, asking him for advice on what to say or how to make her happy again.

“I just don’t understand this at all,” he’d admitted to North during their last talk. “It’s hard for me to comprehend sadness over the death of a mortal. They all seem alike to me. They’re so short-lived it doesn’t seem like they even develop traits to miss. Why is she so sad, North?”

“If mortals are all alike to you, then why do you care about the happiness of this one?” North asked him.

“Well… Katherine is… Katherine is different.”

“Different how?”

“Just different. Perhaps it’s because I don’t interact with a lot of mortals, but she was the only one to treat me as more than a monster when we first met. She doesn’t fear me. I feel… I feel emotions I’ve never felt before when I’m around her.”

“Most of us don’t interact with a lot of other humans during our lives either, you know. We only meet a few of the many thousands of people in this world. Some people I’ve met have treated me as a monster - more than those who’ve treated me well. I cherish the few that I’ve come to know as friends… even Ombric, despite what he did. I knew him a shorter time than you or Katherine, but I still mourn his passing. He was a ‘different’ sort of person to me, like Katherine is to you. I suspect he was ‘different’ to her as well. That is why she mourns him so.”

North’s simple explanation seemed to trigger an epiphany, for Nightlight had not returned to ask for advice in nearly a week. North grew used to the quiet solitude of Ombric’s office in his absence, and for this reason it startled him when he heard the knob of the office door being turned one day.

When he looked up from his work, expecting Nightlight to enter, he saw Katherine instead. She looked in better health than she had when he’d last seen her -- a bit of color was in her cheeks again, and her hair appeared freshly washed and combed.

“Kisa. Is everything all right?”

She leaned against the door after closing it behind her, and chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds before she spoke.

“I’m going to let Nightlight turn me into a vampire,” she blurted, causing North’s eyebrows to shoot up. “You’re not going to talk me out of it. I just came here to tell you first.”

“Katherine, what is this about?” North said. “I know you are distressed, but I assure you that you do not want such a thing.”

His heart hurt when he realized this was probably Katherine’s way of dealing with death. It was a terrible thing for a young girl to experience loss, and of course it would make her consider her own morality. To her, it might now seem preferable to become a vampire and be freed of the uncertainty of what awaited a mortal after death.

“No,” Katherine said. “This is what I want. I’ve thought it over again and again since father died. I want to help Nightlight.”

“You can help him as a human, Katherine. You do not need to sacrifice your mortality to be useful.”

Katherine shook her head.

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I want to be beside of Nightlight when he takes Manny’s place. I want to help him fix the problems Manny’s caused for humans and vampires alike. I know I’ll never see our societies at peace during my lifetime as a human, even if I live to be a hundred. It’s going to take centuries to set things right. I need to do this, North. All my life I’ve believed in the wrong people. I’ve been cheering for the bad guys all along! I feel so stupid!”

“You are not stupid, Katherine, nor have you been supporting the ‘bad guys’. Do you think your father was a ‘bad guy’?”

Katherine hesitated before she replied, and her tone was particularly childlike under the weight of sorrow.

“Yes. I can see now that he was. He did bad things to Bunny, and he knew if he helped Manny a lot of people would die…”

“You only recently found out about those things, kisa. Your entire life, you knew Ombric as the man who protected you and the villagers. I am not asking you to dismiss the bad things he did, but remember that he loved you, and for that reason he did not let you see the side of him that was cruel. Why wouldn’t you believe in him and his choices? You did not think he could harbor bad intentions because you knew him only as kind. ”

“You make me sound even more stupid when you put it like that,” Katherine mumbled. “I should have noticed the way he treated you all. I should have questioned his decisions...”

“Katherine,” North sighed. “As much as you may deny it, you are still a child. A child is not stupid for wanting to believe that her father always makes the right choices. You do not need to martyr yourself because your love for your father blinded you to his flaws.”

“I may be a child, but that doesn’t really matter now, does it? I have no one left to take care of me or make decisions for me, so it’s time for me to grow up and make my own choices. I do owe it to the world to become a vampire, North. I want to do the right thing for once.”

North saw tears straining against the rims of her eyes, and stood up to approach her.

“No,” she said, barely restraining a sob. “I told you you weren’t going to talk me out of this!”

“Katherine, please,” he pleaded. “I will be your family. I am alone in this world too. I know it hurts, I know. I love you and I promise I will care for you.”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t want to stay here! You’re not my father, North, and you’re not ever going to be! You’d just die and leave me too!”

Katherine at last lost control of herself and began to sob pathetically. North tried to approach her once again, but she screamed at him to leave her alone. The rejection pained him, for he’d planned to adopt the girl since Ombric’s passing. He tried to push his misery aside, however, knowing he needed to be strong for her. She was hurting in a deep, dark part of her that she’d never known before then, and the truths that had held her life together were unraveling.

“Katherine, I know I cannot replace your father. That is not what I am trying to do. I want to help you. I want the two of us to help each other. I will not live forever, but I promise I will fight against death every moment I am with you. Please do not leave.”

He stood at a distance watching her cry into her hands, aching because he could do nothing to comfort her, when Katherine suddenly rushed forward and threw her arms around him. Wetness seeped into his shirt as she cried against his chest. He hugged her as tightly as he could manage and gently stroked her hair, his own eyes beginning to sting with tears.

“Please do not leave,” he repeated softly. “I will take care of you, Katherine. There will be no more adventures or dangerous journeys.”

Katherine looked up at him, smiling, though her face was still red and her chest heaved with scattered sobbing.

“Don’t be like that,” she said. “You shouldn’t ever give up adventures. I’m not going to, even when I’m busy saving mankind.”

North felt his heart sink again, his temporary hope she’d changed her mind quashed.

“You still mean to leave, then?” he asked.

She drew back from him and wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I knew you were going to do this,” she sniffled. “I knew you’d make me cry. I’m okay now… I just needed to get that out I guess. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just please assure me you’re going to stay.”

“I’m going with Nightlight, North. It isn’t because I hate you. That’s not it at all. I’m going to miss you so much. I know you’d take care of me, it’s just…I can’t stay here. Maybe I don’t really need to do this. Maybe I am just running away because I’m scared of losing someone else… but at least this way I have a chance at making a real difference in the world.”

“Oh kisa. You do not need a thousand years to do that. You’ve made a difference in my world.”

“I want to make a difference for your children and grandchildren too,” she said. “Don’t be sad because I’m leaving. You’ll have children of your own someday, real ones.”

“Are you not real?” he asked, smiling sadly. “I do not love you any less because we share no blood between us. Please, I will beg you one last time -- do not leave me, Katherine.”

* * *

The clock chimed a twelfth and final time when North came into the kitchen. Tooth blinked a few times to focus her tired eyes, and muttered a groggy hello.

“Fancy seeing someone else up at this hour other than the vampire,” she said. She watched North stumble toward the table and collapse in a chair. “Are you drunk?”

“I don’t know,” North grumbled. “Usually I feel good when I’m drunk. I don’t feel very good right now.”

“Seriously? Where did you even get alcohol in this town? Nevermind. What’s the occasion?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m just thankful I happened to get like this before Nightlight burst into my room to tell me we’ve got company.”

“Company? You don’t mean Pitch? He’s here now?”

“Him and that little scoundrel too,” North said. “Oh, and the daughter. Grand, eh! We’ve got more vampires under our roof than humans now.”

Tooth furrowed her brow, inventorying the people in the home.

“You’re so drunk you can’t even count, North. There are five of us and four of them.”

“Huh,” North snorted. “That’s what you think.”

She didn’t get to demand an explanation, for at that moment Nightlight swept into the room, followed by Sandy (who looked to be sleepwalking his way around) and Bunny. Bunny’s hair was sticking up every which way, and he yawned loudly as he headed toward his chair. All of them were a mess except for Nightlight, who looked to have just had his morning cup of tea (though of course vampires did not drink tea, and Tooth did not want to think about what had really kept him so lively during his time in Santoff Claussen). The boy vampire disappeared as soon as he’d ushered them all into a seat at the table.

“These tossers,” Bunny groaned before yawning again. “You’d think they’d send a message before the night of a meeting to discuss the fate of humankind.”

Before long Nightlight returned, this time with the three other vampires. Tooth tensed as they neared the table, barely able to contain her rage when she saw Pitch and Jack. Though Katherine had forgiven Jack for nearly strangling her, Tooth had not. She didn’t care if he was deep in creepy, obsessive love with Pitch, and he’d tried to kill Katherine in a pathetic attempt to win the older vampire’s heart. The fact he’d tried to kill her at all was unforgivable.

Then there was Pitch -- Pitch who’d killed all of Bunny’s family, Pitch who’d held Bunny down and screamed at him that he was a worthless animal. She briefly glanced at Bunny to see if he appeared nervous or upset in the vampire’s presence, but found him wearing a rather neutral expression. North was too drunk to care and Sandy was nearly asleep. Fine -- she’d just be enraged for all of them.

Nightlight seemed annoyed by their surprise guests at least, and he didn’t try to mask his contempt toward Jack at all. Nightlight hated Jack more strongly than even Tooth for what’d he done to Katherine. When Jack tried to sit in the last of the chairs Nightlight jerked it out from under him and took the chair as his own, dragging it far away from the other vampires.

Jack stood up and looked around for another empty chair, and finding none, sat in Pitch’s lap. Much to everyone’s disgust, Pitch used that as an excuse to lean forward and rake his fangs against his lover’s neck, eliciting a soft moan from the boy.

“Enough,” North growled, sounding far more sober. “I take it you all are here at the lovely hour of midnight to discuss our plans regarding Manny.”

“Yes,” said Pitch’s daughter, Sera. “I do apologize for not notifying you in advance. We were...uncertain about our plans until this evening.”

Tooth wondered if it’d been Jack or Pitch that fought hardest against helping them.

“I want us to depart for Europe as soon as possible,” Sera continued. “We will go to Manny under the guise of gifting him a weakened Pitch to kill by his own hand. Pitch will strike him when Manny attempts to land a fatal blow. I expect the chambers to erupt in chaos when Manny falls, so this is where you all come in. You’ve proven yourself adept enough at killing weaker vampires, so you shall act as a barrier to Nightlight while he speaks to the council. I hope his words will calm them fairly quickly, but do not hesitate to slay any vampire that attempts to attack him. Pitch and I will seal and guard the doors so none may escape into the night to announce Manny’s death to their brethren.”

“Brilliant, we’re all sorted out then,” North said. “I should mention I will not be joining you.”

“What?” said Tooth, her eyes widening. “North, why not? This is serious! We need all the help we can get!”

“I’m no use to you this time,” he replied. “I’m still healing from our first encounter with Pitch, and since Ombric’s death I’ve lost much of my strength thanks to being hunched over a desk all day. I am not avoiding this out of cowardice or apathy, I assure you. I know I would only hold you back, and the people of Santoff Claussen need me to look after the village. Thankfully, you do have someone who can go in my stead.”

“Who in hell is that, North?”

“Katherine,” said North, casting a dark look at Nightlight.

“Katherine?” Tooth snorted, incredulous. “I’m not dragging a little girl along with us to slay a vampire, North! I thought even you saw the problem with that. You are incredibly drunk.”

“Not as drunk as I need to be, Tooth. Katherine will be safer than the rest of you, believe me. Isn’t that right, Nightlight? You saw to it she’d be able to defend herself.”

Tooth turned to look at Nightlight, panic suddenly coursing through her veins.

“What did you do, Nightlight?” she said hoarsely. “What did you do?!”

“Well, well,” said Pitch, sounding infuriatingly amused. “I didn’t know you had it in you, old friend. This is your first, isn’t it?”

Tooth stood up so rapidly that her chair clattered to the floor.

“What did you do?!” she nearly screamed at Nightlight. “Tell me what you did!”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Pitch said. “He’s turned the child into a vampire.”

“No! No, Nightlight, you didn’t, tell me you didn’t!”

“She asked him to do it,” North muttered, but Tooth did not care. She screamed at Nightlight and demanded to know why he’d listened to her. She hadn’t known what she asked, surely!

Nightlight only stared at her. He didn’t seem disturbed at all by Tooth’s panicked state, and didn’t even flinch when she came forward and struck him across the face with a closed fist. The bruise she left healed before her eyes, and she slumped to the floor in defeat.

“No need for all that,” said Pitch. “My old friend is in the habit of slipping into his natural perception of time when mortals upset him, so he cannot hear you screaming anyway.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s killed you without killing you,” Pitch said cryptically. “You have lived and died and withered to bones and ash before his eyes, and so have countless others that will come to pass through the very spot you’ve fallen. Ones so ancient as we perceive time very differently, you see. I’ve always made a conscious effort to slow my perception as much as I am able so I might enjoy my short time with mortals. Though that won’t be necessary much longer, will it my little tomb lily?”

Pitch leaned forward and nipped at Jack’s neck once more, his gaze never leaving Tooth’s.

“Nightlight finds the whole lot of you insufferable,” he said. “You’d best thank your gods that girl captured his interest, for he has never cared enough for mortal life to tolerate your level of asininity before. You fools think me cruel because Manny has convinced you I am a careless, unfeeling bloodsucker that kills for fun, but surely by now you’ve heard I’m unusually sympathetic toward humans for a vampire. The only reason your beloved Nightlight wants to ‘help humankind’ is because he’s not an imbecile like Manny. He knows we need to slowly reintroduce our kind to our natural feeding habits, lest we decimate our prey in a drunken killing spree to rival that of Sekhmet. You yell at him as if you’ve been betrayed. A master cannot betray his dogs.”

“Pitch,” Sera warned. “You cannot speak for Nightlight.”

“But I can. Even you, you who do not even feed from mortals, know this isn’t a selfless act for the benefit of humankind. We aren’t overthrowing Manny so we might convert all the vampires in the world to drinking from rats and sickly forest creatures, are we, daughter? And what is this fuss over the girl anyway, she asked Nightlight to turn her...”

“Just shut up, Pitch,” Bunny said. “We’ve lost Katherine, Tooth. There is nothing we can do now, and apparently Nightlight doesn’t give a damn how we feel about it. I’m so damned tired of vampires. I’m glad I spared the two of you after all if this is the tedious existence you have to suffer. Death would be too sweet a gift.”

“Thank you, by the way,” Pitch said mockingly. “I’m sure your family would be so proud of you for saving me.”

“Stop!” Sera said loudly as Bunny made to get up and hit Pitch. Tooth realized she’d addressed her father rather than Bunny.

“I told you I did not want anything to do with that creature,” Pitch snarled at Sera. “Do not think I will share a boat with it across the Atlantic.”

“I’m going to bolt you in a coffin and throw you in a storage hold. You won’t have the luxury of knowing if you share his boat or if I’ve shipped you off to the arctic until you come into dock.”

Tooth sat back in her seat, cradling her forehead. She was tired of vampires too. Despite their claim to be superior beings, all the vampires were doing was acting childish and petty. She studied Pitch’s fangs when he sneered at his daughter again, and remembered when she’d coveted them. The necklace of fangs around her throat felt too heavy now to consider adding more. Her eyes were heavy too, so heavy…

Tooth didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she next opened her eyes the conversation had shifted to plans for their travel. Across from her, Katherine sat in the seat that North was sitting in when she fell asleep. The girl was paler than before, but she’d not yet undergone a drastic physical change like Jack. North himself was nowhere in sight.

“Katherine?” Tooth said. “Where’s North?”

“He left when I came in,” said Katherine. “He’s still angry with me…”

“He’s not angry, he’s in shock. Why did you do this, Katherine?”

“North knows why,” Katherine said softly. “Maybe someday he’ll accept it.”

* * *

Jack climbed the stairs to the deck when night fell, and found Katherine staring out across the dark ocean. The sea was only dark to humans of course, not to them -- for Jack and Katherine, the ocean under a nightsky was an endless expanse of clear, grey waters. Jack had never seen the sea as a human, so he could not miss its rich blue hues and the way it sparkled beneath the sun, but Katherine had known it well and hated what it had become to her. She kept trying to picture the old ocean as she watched the gentle swell and lull of the vast grey sea, but even thinking of sunlight seemed to hurt.

“I think we’re going to be there soon,” Jack said as he approached, leaning against the railing. “I’ll be glad when all of this is over.”

The fight wouldn’t be over for Katherine for a while, possibly ever. Jack and the others would go about their lives as free men when they defeated Manny, but she’d sworn to Nightlight that she would remain at his side and dedicate herself to improving their society. Though she’d tried to seem sure of herself when she told North her plans, now it all seemed like far more than she’d ever be able to handle.

Nightlight discovered the two of them a few moments later and hurried over to stand between them. Though Katherine assured him countless times that she’d forgiven Jack and that they were friends, her companion still hated him. She wondered if some of his hatred had nothing to do with the attack and everything to do with the fact Jack happened to be another handsome vampire with white hair. The thought made her giggle a little despite herself.

When they came into dock and unloaded from the boat, Katherine and Nightlight broke away from the others to converse in private, leaving Jack alone. None of the hunters spoke to him as they hauled their luggage to an awaiting carriage, nor did Seraphina acknowledge him as she noiselessly passed. Just as loneliness began to gnaw at him, he felt a familiar weight against his shoulder, and all of his troubles ebbed away.

Pitch’s fingertips brushed over his throat, and his lover leaned down to kiss the shell of his ear. He’d not seen Pitch much at all throughout the journey, since he’d been kept hidden away in the bowels of the boat. Once or twice he’d snuck on deck to enthrall a human victim and feed when he was certain his daughter would not be around, but he’d never stopped to speak with Jack.

“I missed you,” Jack murmured, closing his eyes and relaxing against Pitch. “Do you really have to do this? What if something goes wrong? What if he kills you?”

Pitch chuckled lowly.

“You will kick yourself for saying that once you see who we’re up against. Manny is nothing to be feared, Jack.”

“I just...I just don’t want to lose you,” Jack whispered.

Not now. Not after all they’d suffered.

“You won’t,” Pitch assured him.

Jack followed Pitch to where the others awaited them. Belief had given him the strength to survive thus far. He only hoped it would be armor enough in the war ahead.

**  
** _Terminat hora diem; terminat auctor opus._


End file.
